THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 
FREDERIC  THOMAS  BLANCHARD 


THE   GREAT   MISS    DRIVER 


"  By  Heaven,  the  girl  on  the  mantelpiece  at  Hatcham  Ford!  " 

[Page  270.] 


THE 


GREAT   MISS   DRIVER 


BY 

ANTHONY   HOPE 

author  of 

tristram  of  blent,  double  harness, 

Helena's  path,  love's  logic 


Garden  City        New  York 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1912 


Copyright,  iqo8,  by 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

X. 

PAGE 

I. 

What  is  She  Like? 

3 

II. 

Making  Amends 

16 

III. 

On  the  Use  of  Scrapes 

3° 

IV. 

An  Unpopular  Man 

49 

V. 

Rapier  and  Club 

65 

VI. 

Taking  to  Open  Sea 

81 

VII. 

The  Flick  of  a  Whip 

98 

VIII. 

A  Secret  Treaty 

114 

IX. 

The  Institute  Clerk 

129 

X. 

A  Frlendly  Glass 

144 

XI. 

The  Signal  at  "Danger" 

160 

XII. 

Saving  a  Week 

175 

XIII. 

The  Boy  with  the  Red  Cap 

191 

XIV. 

The  Eight-fifteen  Train 

208 

XV. 

In  the  Dock 

223 

XVI. 

Not  Proven 

239 

XVII. 

One  of  Two  Legacies 

254 

XVIII. 

The  New  Campaign 

273 

XIX. 

A  Case  of  Conscience 

288 

XX. 

Living  Pieces 

V 

41 

3°4 

vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.  Nathan  and  David  320 

XXII.  The  Alternative  335 

XXIII.  On  All  Grounds — Ridiculous!  350 

XXIV.  A  Chance  for  the  Romantic  366 
XXV.  A  Fresh  Coat  of  Paint  381 

XXVI.  Pedigree  and  Biography  396 

XXVII.  A  Man  of  Business  41 1 


THE  GREAT   MISS   DRIVER 


CHAPTER    I 

WHAT    IS    SHE    LIKE? 

PERHAPS  you  won't  believe  me,"  said  I,  "  but 
till  yesterday  I  never  so  much  as  heard  of  her 
existence." 

"  I've  not  the  least  difficulty  in  believing  you.  That 
was  old  Nick's  way.  It  wasn't  your  business — was  it? 
— so  he  didn't  talk  to  you  about  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  a  thing  was  your  business — that's  to  say, 
when  he  wanted  your  services — he  told  you  all  about 
it.  But  I  believe  I'm  the  only  person  he  did  tell.  I'm 
sure  he  didn't  tell  a  soul  down  in  Catsford.  Finely 
put  about  they'll  be!" 

Mr.  Cartmell,  of  Fisher,  Son,  &  Cartmell  (he  was 
the  only  surviving  representative  of  the  firm),  broke 
off  to  hide  a  portion  of  his  round  red  face  in  a  silver 
tankard;  Loft,  the  butler,  had  brought  it  to  him  on 
his  arrival  without  express  orders  given;  I  had  often 
seen  the  same  vessel  going  into  Mr.  Driver's  study  on 
the  occasion  of  the  lawyer's  calls. 

He  set  the  tankard — much  lightened  it  must  have 
been — on  the  mantelpiece  and  walked  to  the  window, 
taking  a  pull  at  his  cigar.  We  were  in  my  room — my 
"  office  "  it  was  generally  called  in  the  household.  He 
stood  looking  out,  talking  to  me  half  over  his  shoulder. 

3 


4  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  A  man's  mind  turns  back  at  times  like  these.  I 
remember  him  hard  on  forty  years  ago.  I  was  a  lad 
then,  just  gone  into  the  business.  Mr.  Fisher  was  alive 
— not  the  one  you  remember — not  poor  Nat — but 
the  old  gentleman.  Nat  was  the  junior,  and  I  was  in 
the  last  year  of  my  articles.  Well,  Nick  Driver  came 
to  the  old  gentleman  one  morning  and  asked  him  to 
act  for  him — said  he  thought  he  was  big  enough  by 
now.  The  old  gentleman  didn't  want  to,  but  poor  Nat 
had  an  eye  for  a  man  and  saw  that  Driver  meant  to 
get  on.  So  they  took  him,  and  we've  acted  for  him 
ever  since.  It  wasn't  many  years  before  he — "  Cart- 
mell  paused  a  moment,  laying  the  finger-tips  of  his 
right  hand  against  the  finger-tips  of  his  left,  and 
straightening  his  arms  from  the  elbow  like  a  swimmer 
— "  before  he  began  to  drive  his  wedge  into  the 
county." 

The  good  man  was  fairly  launched  on  his  subject; 
much  of  it  was  new  to  me,  in  detail  if  not  in  broad 
outline,  and  I  listened  with  interest.  Besides,  there 
was  nothing  else  to  do  until  the  time  came  to  start. 
But  the  story  will  bear  a  little  summarizing,  like  a 
great  many  other  stories;  Cartmell  was  too  fond  of 
anecdotes.  Thus  summarized  then: 

Nicholas  Driver  began  life  as  a  tanner  in  Catsford. 
He  was  thrifty  and  saved  money.  With  the  money  he 
bought  land  and  built  some  villas;  with  the  rent  of 
the  villas — more  land.  He  had  faith  in  the  develop- 
ment of  Catsford.  He  got  early  news  of  the  coming 
of  the  railway;  he  pledged  every  house  and  every  inch 
of  land — and  bought  more  land.  So  the  process  went 
on — detailed  by  Mr.  Cartmell,  indicated  here.  Nich- 


WHAT    IS    SHE    LIKE?  5 

olas  Driver  became  moderately  rich — and,  by  the 
way,  his  Catsford  property  had  never  ceased  to  rise 
in  value  and  was  rising  still.  Then,  as  it  seemed 
(even  Mr.  Cartmell  spoke  conjecturally),  an  era  of 
speculation  followed — first  in  England,  then  in  Amer- 
ica. "  That,"  Cartmell  interjected,  "  was  when  he 
picked  up  this  girl's  mother,  not  that  she  was  Amer- 
ican, but  he  met  her  about  that  time."  He  must  have 
speculated  largely  and  successfully,  or  he  could  not 
have  made  all  that  money — so  stood  the  case.  The 
money  made,  the  process  of  "  driving  his  wedge  into 
the  county  "  began.  "  The  county  "  must,  here  and 
henceforward,  be  carefully  distinguished  from  "  the 
town."  Geographical  contiguity  does  not  bridge  a 
social  chasm. 

First  he  bought  Hatcham  Ford,  a  small  but  beau- 
tiful Jacobean  house  lying  on  the  banks  of  the  river, 
some  mile  and  a  half  out  of  Catsford  at  that  time,  now 
caught  in  the  lengthening  fringe  of  the  town.  While 
in  residence  there,  he  spread  his  territory  to  the  north 
and  west,  acquiring  all  the  outlying  farms  which  the 
Lord  Filling-ford  of  the  day  was  free  to  sell;  then,  too, 
he  made  his  first  audacious  bid  for  Fillingford  Manor 
itself — the  first  of  many,  it  appeared.  Though  the 
later  no  longer  seemed  audacious,  all  had  been  fruit- 
less; Lord  Fillingford  could  not  sell  without  his 
son's  consent,  and  that  was  withheld.  The  family 
struggled  on  in  perpetual  financial  straits,  hating 
Nicholas  Driver,  but  envying  him  his  money,  never 
coming  to  an  open  rupture  with  him  for  fear  of  his 
power  or  apprehension  of  its  own  necessities;  never 
sparing  a  sneer  or  a  secret  thrust  when  either  was 


6  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

safe.  For  his  part,  baffled  in  that  quarter,  he  turned 
to  the  east  and  approached  Mr.  Dormer  of  Breys- 
gate  Priory.  It  was  a  beautiful  place.  Down  by  the 
lake  lay  the  old  Cistercian  monastery;  the  original 
building  was  in  ruins,  but  a  small  house  had  been 
built  on  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth,  and  this  was  still 
habitable.  High  on  the  hill  stood  the  big,  solidly 
handsome,  Georgian  mansion,  erected  by  the  Dor- 
mer of  the  day  when  the  estate  came  into  the  hands 
of  the  family.  From  the  hilltop  the  park  rolled  out 
and  out  in  undulating  curves  of  rich  grass-land  and 
spreading  woods.  To  Nicholas  Driver's  joy  and  sur- 
prise— he  had  anticipated  another  struggle  and  feared 
another  rebuff — Mr.  Dormer  was  ready  to  sell — for 
a  price.  He  was  elderly,  his  wife  middle-aged,  his 
only  heir  a  cousin  toward  whom  he  was  indifferent 
and  who,  though  heir  of  entail  to  the  property,  would 
be  unable  to  keep  it  up,  unless  his  predecessor  left 
him  money  for  the  purpose.  In  these  circumstances 
matters  were  soon  arranged.  The  cousin  was  bought 
off,  his  consent  given,  and  the  Dormers  retired  to 
a  smaller  place,  properly  the  dower  house — Hings- 
ton  Hall,  situated  fifteen  miles  from  Catsford.  Behold 
Nicholas  Driver  a  country  gentleman  on  a  distinctly 
large  scale! 

"  And  with  how  much  ready  money  to  his  name 
besides  you'll  get  some  idea  about  when  the  will  is 
proved,"  Mr.  Cartmell  ended  impressively. 

His  impressiveness  impressed  me;  I  do  not  know 
why  I  should  be  ashamed  to  confess  it.  A  great  deal 
of  anything  impresses  ordinary  people;  a  great  deal 
of  hill  is  a  mountain,  a  great  deal  of  water  is  an  ocean, 


WHAT    IS    SHE    LIKE?  7 

a  great  deal  of  brain  is  a  genius;  and  so  on.  Simi- 
larly, a  great  deal  of  money  has  its  grandeur — for 
ordinary  people. 

'  It  might  be  a  million  and  a  half — a  million  and  a 
half  sovereigns,  Austin! — and  it's  growing  every 
night  while  you  sleep!  And  now — he's  dead!  " 

"  You  do  die  just  the  same — that's  the  worst  of  it." 

"  And  not  an  old  man  either!  " 

"Sixty-three!" 

'  Tut — I  shall  be  that  myself  in  three  years — and 
you  can't  tire  me  yet!  " 

'  Perhaps  making  millions  and  driving  wedges  is — 
rather  exhausting,  Cartmell.  You  split  the  tree;  don't 
you  blunt  the  wedge  in  time,  too?  " 

"  The  end  came  easy,  did  it?  " 

'  Oh,  yes,  in  his  sleep.  So  the  nurse  tells  me.  I 
wasn't  there  myself." 

"  I'm  glad  it  was  easy.  After  all,  he  was  a  very 
old  friend  of  mine — and  a  very  valuable  client.  Let's 
see,  how  long  have  you  been  with  him?  " 

"  Four  years." 

"  Going  to  stay?  " 

I  rose  and  began  to  brush  my  hat.  "  If  you  come 
to  that,"  said  I,  "  are  you  going  to  stay  either,  Cart- 
mell? I  gather  that  she  can  do  as  she  pleases 
about  that?" 

"  Every  rod  of  ground  and  every  farthing  of  money 
— bating  decent  charities!  It's  a  great  position." 

'  It's  a  very  unexplored  one  so  far  as  we're  con- 
cerned," I  made  bold  to  remark. 

'  Have  you  seen  him  since — since  the  end,  Aus- 
tin? " 


8  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"Yes.  Would  you  like  to?" 

"  No,  I  shouldn't,"  he  answered  bluntly.  "  Perhaps 
it's  brutal.  I  know  it's  cowardly.  But  I  don't  like 
death." 

"  Nonsense!  You  make  half  your  income  out  of  it. 
I  say,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well  start?'' 

"  Yes,"  he  assented  absently.  "  I  wonder  how  she's 
turned  out!  " 

I  looked  at  him  with  quickened  interest.  "  Turned 
out?  That  sounds  almost  as  if  you'd  seen  her." 

"  I  have  seen  her.  Come  along.  I'll  tell  you  about 
it  as  we  drive  down." 

We  traversed  the  long  corridor  which  leads  from 
my  office  to  the  hall.  Loft  was  waiting  for  us,  with 
an  attendant  footman.  Loft  addressed  me  in  a  muffled 
voice;  his  demeanor  might  always  be  relied  on  for 
perfection — he  would  not  once  unmuffle  his  voice  till 
his  master  was  buried. 

"  The  landau  is  waiting,  sir.  The  omnibus  for  Miss 
Driver's  maid  and  the  luggage  has  gone  on."  Won- 
derful man!  He  spoke  of  "  Miss  Driver  "  as  if  she  had 
lived  for  years  in  the  house. 

Cartmell  gave  him  a  queer  look  and  emitted  a  low 
chuckle  as  we  got  into  the  landau,  behind  the  big 
grays.  Mr.  Driver  always  drove  grays,  and  he  liked 
them  big,  so  that  he  could  rattle  up  the  hill  to  his 
house. 

"Maid!  Luggage!"  muttered  Cartmell.  "The 
bus'll  hold  'em,  I  think,  with  a  bit  to  spare!  By  his 
orders  I  sent  her  twenty  pounds  on  Tuesday;  that's 
all  she's  had  as  yet.  I  only  had  time  to  telegraph 
about — the  rest." 


WHAT    IS    SHE    LIKE?  9 

"Interesting  wire  to  get!  But  about  your  seeing 
her,  Cartmell?" 

In  honor  of  the  occasion  Cartmell,  like  myself,  had 
put  on  a  black  frock  coat  and  a  silk  hat,  properly 
equipped  with  a  mourning  band  of  respectful  width. 
But  he  wore  the  coat  with  a  jaunty  air,  and  the  hat 
slightly  but  effectively  cocked  on  one  side,  so  that  the 
quiet  yet  ingrained  horsiness  of  his  aspect  suffered 
little  from  the  unwonted  attire.  The  confidential  wink 
with  which  he  now  turned  his  plump  rubicund  face 
toward  me  preserved  his  general  harmony.  With  the 
mournful  atmosphere  of  Breysgate  Priory,  however, 
I  could  not  help  feeling  that  my  own  lank  jaws  and 
more  precisely  poised  head-gear  consorted  better. 

'  You  can  hold  your  tongue,  Austin?  " 

"  A  very  shrewd  man  has  paid  me  four  hundred  a 
year  for  four  years  past  on  that  understanding." 

'  Then  what  happened  at  the  Smalls,  at  Chelten- 
ham? " 

"  Isn't  that  beginning  the  story  at  the  wrong  end?  " 
I  asked. 

"  That  was  where  she  was  " — he  searched  for  a 
word — "  where  she  was  planted.  She  lived  at  three  or 
four  different  places  altogether,  you  know." 

"And  the  mother?" 

'  Mother  died — vanished  anyhow — early  in  the 
proceedings.  Well,  word  came  of  trouble  at  Chelten- 
ham. Small,  though  of  my  own  profession,  was  an  ass. 
He  wrote  a  bleating  letter — yes,  he  was  more  like  a 
sheep,  really — to  old  Nick.  Nick  told  me  I  must  go 
and  put  it  to  rights.  So  I  went." 

"  Why  didn't  he  go  himself?  " 


io  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  I  think,"  said  Cartmell  cautiously,  "  that  he  had 
some  kind  of  a  feeling  against  seeing  the  girl.  Really 
that's  the  only  thing  that  accounts  for  his  behavior 
all  through." 

"  Did  he  never  see  her?  " 

"  Never — since  she  was  quite  a  child.  So  he  told 
me.  But  let  me  finish  the  story — if  you  want  to  hear 
it.  Being  ordered,  I  went.  They  lived  in  a  beastly  villa 
and  were,  to  speak  generally,  a  disgrace  to  humanity 
by  their  utter  flabbiness.  But  there  was  a  flashy  sort 
of  a  gentleman,  by  the  name  of  Powers."  He  stopped 
and  looked  at  me  for  a  minute.  "  A  married  flashy 
gentleman  named  Nelson  Powers.  She  was  sixteen 
— and  she  wrote  to  Powers.  A  good  many  letters 
she'd  written  to  Powers.  Small  was  such  a  fool  that 
Powers  guessed  there  was  money  in  it.  And  she,  of 
course,  had  never  thought  of  a  Mrs.  Powers.  How 
should  she?  Sixteen  and " 

"  Hopelessly  innocent?  " 

"  I  really  think  so,"  he  answered  with  an  air,  rather 
odd,  of  advancing  a  paradox.  "  She  let  him  worm  out 
of  her  all  that  she  knew  about  her  father — which  was 
that  he  paid  the  bills  for  her  and  that  Small  had  told 
her  that  he  was  rich.  She  didn't  know  where  he  lived, 
but  Powers  got  that  out  of  Small  without  much 
trouble,  and  then  it  was  blackmail  on  Mr.  Driver,  of 
course." 

"  Did  you  get  at  Powers?  Had  to  pay  him  some- 
thing, I  suppose?  " 

"  I  got  at  Mrs.  Powers — and  paid  her.  Much  bet- 
ter! We  had  the  letters  in  twenty-four  hours.  Powers 
really  repented  that  time,  I  think!  But  I  had  orders 


WHAT    IS    SHE    LIKE?  n 

to  take  her  away  from  the  Smalls.  The  same  man 
never  failed  Nick  Driver  twice!  I  sent  her  under 
escort  to  Dawlish — at  least  near  there — to  a  clergy- 
man's family,  where  she's  been  ever  since.  But  it  can't 
be  denied  that  she  left  Cheltenham  rather — well, 
rather  under  a  cloud.  If  you  ask  me  what  I  think 
about  it " 

I  had  been  growing  interested — yet  not  interested 
in  precisely  the  point  about  which  Mr.  Cartmell  con- 
jectured that  I  might  be  about  to  inquire. 

"  Did  she  say  anything  about  it  herself?  "  I  inter- 
rupted. 

He  stroked  his  chin.  "  She  said  rather  a  curious 
thing — she  was  only  sixteen,  you  know.  She  said  that 
we  might  have  given  her  credit  for  being  able  to  take 
just  a  little  care  of  herself." 

"  That  sounds  like  underrating  your  diplomacy, 
Cartmell." 

"  I  thought  myself  that  it  reflected  on  the  bill  I 
proposed  to  send  in!  Funny,  wasn't  it?  From  a  chit 
like  that!" 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"  Asked  her  if  she'd  like  a  foot-warmer  for  the 
journey  to  Dawlish." 

"Capital!  You  were  about  to  tell  me  what  you 
thought  about  it?" 

"  The  folly  of  a  young  ignorant  girl,  no  doubt. 
Powers  was  an  insinuating  rascal — and  a  girl  doesn't 
know  at  that  age  the  difference  between  a  gentleman 
and  a  cad.  He  moved  too  soon,  though.  We  were  in 
jots  of  time  to  prevent  real  mischief — and  Mrs. 
Powers    came   up   to   the   scratch! "    He    drummed 


12  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

his  fingers  on  the  window  of  the  landau,  looking 
thoughtful  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  retrospectively 
puzzled. 

"  And  did  all  go  smoothly  with  the  clergyman's 
family?  " 

"  She's  been  there  ever  since.  I've  heard  of  no 
trouble.  The  governess's  reports  of  her  were  excel- 
lent, I  remember  Mr.  Driver  telling  me  once." 

"  Well  then,  we  can  forget  all  about  Powers." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Cartmell,  drumming  his  fingers 
still. 

"And  what  was  she  like?" 

Cartmell  looked  at  me,  a  smile  slowly  breaking 
across  his  broad  face.  "  Here's  the  station.  Suppose 
you  see  for  yourself,"  he  suggested. 

We  had  ten  minutes  to  wait  before  Miss  Driver's 
train  was  due — we  had  been  careful  to  run  no  risk  of 
not  being  on  the  spot  to  receive  her.  Cartmell  was  at 
no  loss  to  employ  the  time.  I  left  him  plunging  into 
an  animated  discussion  of  the  points  of  a  handsome 
cob  which  stood  outside  the  station:  on  the  handsome 
cob's  back  was  a  boy,  no  less  handsome,  fresh  of  color 
and  yellow-haired.  I  knew  him  to  be  young  Lord 
Lacey,  heir  to  the  Fillingford  earldom,  but  I  had  at 
that  time  no  acquaintance  with  him,  and  passed  on 
into  the  station,  where  I  paced  up  and  down  among  a 
crowd  of  loiterers  and  hasteners — for  Catsford  was 
by  now  a  bustling  center  whence  and  whither  men 
went  and  came  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  most  hours 
of  the  night.  Driver  had  foreseen  that  this  would 
come  about!  It  had  come  about;  he  had  grown  rich; 
he  lay  dead.  It  went  on  happening  still,  and  thereby 


WHAT    IS    SHE    LIKE?  13 

adding  to  the  piles  of  gold  which  he  could  no  longer 
handle. 

Instead  of  indulging  in  these  trite  reflections — to  be 
excused  only  by  the  equal  triteness  of  death,  which 
tends  to  evoke  them — I  should  have  done  well  to 
consider  my  own  position.  A  man  bred  for  a  parson 
but,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  averse  from  adopting  the 
sacred  calling,  is  commonly  not  too  well  fitted  for 
other  avocations — unless  perhaps  he  would  be  a 
schoolmaster,  and  my  taste  did  not  lie  that  way.  In 
default  of  private  means,  an  easy  berth  at  four  hun- 
dred pounds  a  year  may  well  seem  a  godsend.  It 
had  assumed  some  such  celestial  guise  to  me  when, 
on  the  casual  introduction  of  my  uncle  one  day  in 
London,  Mr.  Driver  had  offered  it  to  me.  As  his  pri- 
vate secretary,  I  drew  the  aforementioned  very  lib- 
eral salary,  I  had  my  "  office  "  in  the  big  house  on 
the  hill,  I  dwelt  in  the  Old  Priory  (that  is  to  say, 
in  the  little  dwelling  house  built  on  to  the  ruinous 
remains  of  the  ancient  foundation),  I  was  seldom 
asked  for  more  than  three  hours'  work  a  day,  I  had 
a  horse  to  ride,  and  plenty  of  leisure  for  the  books 
I  loved.  It  would  be  very  unfortunate  to  have  to  give 
up  all  that.  Verily  the  question  "  What  is  she  like?  ': 
had  a  practical,  an  economic,  importance  for  me 
which  raised  it  far  above  the  sphere  of  mere  curiosity 
or  the  nonsense  of  irrelevant  romance.  Was  she  a 
sensible  young  woman  who  would  know  a  good  sec- 
retary when  she  saw  one?  Or,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  she  not?  A  secretary  of  some  sort  she  would  cer- 
tainly require. 

Nay,  perhaps,  she  wouldn't.  The  one  utterance  of 


14  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

hers  which  had  been,  so  far,  credibly  reported  to  my 
ears  was  to  the  effect  that  she  could  take  care — just 
a  little  care — of  herself.  This  at  sixteen!  This  on  the 
top  of  circumstances  which  at  first  sight  indicated 
that  she  had  taken  particularly  bad  care  of  herself! 
Letters  to  a  man  like  Powers!  My  imagination,  for- 
saking my  own  position  and  prospects,  constructed  a 
confident  picture  of  Powers,  proceeded  to  sketch  Mrs. 
Powers  —  strong  lights  here!  —  and  to  outline  the 
family  of  the  Smalls  of  Cheltenham.  It  ended  by  re- 
joicing that  she  had  been  removed  from  the  in- 
fluence of  Powers  and  the  environment  of  the  Smalls 
of  Cheltenham.  Because,  look  at  the  matter  how 
one  might  or  could,  there  was  no  denying  that  it 
was  the  sort  of  incident  which  might  just  as  well — 
or  even  better — not  have  happened  at  all.  At  the 
best,  it  was  not  altogether  pleasant.  Surely  that 
was  the  truth — and  not  merely  the  abortive  parson 
talking  again?  Well,  even  the  abortive  parson  was 
sometimes  right. 

Cartmell  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder.  The  hand- 
some boy  had,  it  appeared,  departed,  after  receiving 
from  an  obsequious  porter  the  copy  of  Country  Life, 
in  quest  of  which  he  had  ridden  to  the  station  from 
Fillingford  Manor. 

"  Here  comes  the  train!  I  wonder  if  I  shall  know 
her  again!  " 

Two  minutes  later,  that  observation  of  CartmeH's 
seemed  to  me  plainly  foolish.  A  man  might  like  her 
or  dislike  her,  trust  her  or  not  trust  her — oh,  away 
with  these  fatal  alternatives,  antitheses,  or  whatever 
they  are!  They  confine  judgment,  and  often  falsify  it. 


WHAT    IS    SHE    LIKE?  15 

He  might  do  all  these  things  at  once — and  I  fancied 
that  she  might  welcome  his  perplexity.  He  would  not 
be  very  likely  to  forget  her — nor  she  to  be  pleased 
if  he  did. 

That  was  only  a  first  impression  of  her,  as  she  got 
out  of  the  train. 


CHAPTER    II 


MAKING    AMENDS 


CARTMELL'S  talk,  as  we  drove  back,  was 
calculated  to  give  her  an  almost  overwhelm- 
ing idea  of  her  possessions  and  (if  her  tem- 
perament set  that  way)  of  her  responsibilities.  Big 
commercial  buildings,  blocks  of  shops,  whole  streets 
of  small  houses,  drew  from  the  lawyer  a  point  of  the 
finger  and  a  brief,  "  That's  yours  " — or  sometimes  he 
would  tell  how  her  father  had  bought,  how  built,  and 
how  profited  by  the  venture.  Every  time  she  would 
turn  her  head  to  look  where  his  finger  pointed,  and 
nod  slightly,  gravely,  composedly.  She  seemed  to  be 
reserving  her  opinion  of  it  all.  The  only  time  she 
spoke  was  when  we  were  emerging  from  the  town 
and  he  showed  her  Hatcham  Ford,  saying,  as  usual, 
"  That's  yours,"  but  adding  that  it  was  let  furnished 
to  Mr.  Leonard  Octon,  who  was  abroad  just  now. 
Then  her  nod  of  understanding  was  accompanied  by 
a  low  murmur,  "  It's  very  pretty." 

She  said  nothing  when  we  drove  into  the  park  of 
Breysgate  Priory  itself:  yet  I  saw  her  eyes  fixed  in- 
tently on  the  great  house  on  the  hill,  which  comes 
into  view  directly  the  drive  is  entered,  and  certainly 
looks  imposing  enough.  After  the  first  formal  greet- 

16 


MAKING    AMENDS  17 

ing  she  did  not  speak  to  me,  nor  I  to  her,  until  her 
reception  at  the  house  was  over  and  we  had  sat  down 
to  luncheon.  But  she  had  smiled  at  me  once — when 
we  were  still  standing  by  the  door,  on  the  terrace  at 
the  top  of  the  steps,  and  Cartmell  was  showing  her 
what  he  called  "  the  lie  of  the  land."  The  omnibus 
with  its  pair  of  big  horses  and  its  pair  of  big  men 
came  trotting  up  the  hill,  and  on  its  big  roof  lay  one 
small  battered  trunk.  Loft  was  waiting  to  give  orders 
to  his  footmen  for  the  disposal  of  her  luggage :  when 
he  saw  the  solitary  and  diminutive  article,  he  ad- 
vanced and,  with  pronounced  graciousness,  received 
it  from  the  omnibus  himself.  She  watched,  and  then 
gave  me  the  smile  that  I  have  mentioned;  evidently 
Loft — or  Loft  in  conjunction  with  that  humble  box — 
appealed  to  her  sense  of  humor. 

Cartmell  was  soon  at  his  ease  with  her :  he  called 
her  "  My  dear  "  twice  before  we  got  to  the  sweets. 
The  second  time  he  apologized  for  taking  the  liberty 
— on  the  first  occasion,  I  suppose,  the  words  slipped 
out  unnoticed  by  himself. 

"  But  I  like  it,"  she  said.  "  My  father  spoke  so 
warmly  about  you  in  his  letter." 

Cartmell  looked  at  me  for  a  moment ;  we  neither  of 
us  knew  of  a  letter. 

"  He  told  me  never  to  part  with  Mr.  Cartmell  be- 
cause an  honest  lawyer  was  worth  his  wreight  in  gold." 

"  I  ride  fourteen-seven,"  said  Cartmell  with  a 
chuckle. 

"  And  he  said  something  about  you,  too,"  she 
added,  looking  at  me,  "  but  perhaps  I'd  better  not 
repeat  that." 


18  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Shall  I  try  to  guess  it?  "  I  asked.  "  Did  he  say  I 
was  a  scholar?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  a  gentleman?" 

"  Yes." 

"  But  confoundedly  conceited?  " 

"  No — well,  not  quite.  Something  like  it,  Mr.  Aus- 
tin. How  did  you  know?  " 

"  It's  what  he  use  to  say  to  me  himself  three  times 
a  week?  " 

Her  face  had  lit  up  in  merriment  during  this  little 
talk,  but  now  she  grew  thoughtful  again.  I  might 
well  have  looked  thoughtful,  too;  so  far  as  had  ap- 
peared at  present,  there  was  no  injunction  against 
parting  with  me — no  worth-his-weight-in-gold  ap- 
praisement of  the  secretary! 

"  I  expect  he  liked  the  scholar-and-gentleman 
part,"  she  reflected.  "  He  wasn't  at  all  a  scholar  him- 
self, I  suppose? " 

"  He'd  had  no  time  for  that,"  said  Cartmell. 

"  Nor  a  gentleman?  " 

It  was  an  embarrassing  question — from  a  daughter 
about  her  father — addressed  to  Cartmell  who  owed 
him  much  and  to  me  who  had  eaten  his  bread.  Be- 
sides— he  was  lying  there  in  his  room  upstairs.  Cart- 
mell faced  the  difficulty  with  simple  directness. 

"  He  wasn't  polished  in  manner;  when  he  was  op- 
posed or  got  angry,  he  was  rough.  But  he  was  honest 
and  straight,  upright  and  just,  kind  and " 

"Kind?"  she  interrupted,  a  note  of  indignation 
plain  to  hear  in  her  voice.  "  Not  to  mel  " 

That  was  awkward  again! 


MAKING   AMENDS  19 

"  My  dear  Miss  Driver,  for  what  may  have  been 
amiss  he's  made  you  the  best  amends  he  could."  He 
waved  his  arm  as  though  to  take  in  all  the  great 
house  in  which  we  sat.  "  Handsome  amends!  " 

"  Yes,"  she  assented — but  her  assent  did  not  sound 
very  hearty. 

A  long  silence  followed — an  uncomfortable  silence. 
She  was  looking  toward  the  window,  and  I  could 
watch  her  face  unperceived.  From  our  first  meeting 
I  had  been  haunted  by  a  sense  of  having  seen  her 
before,  but  I  soon  convinced  myself  that  this  was  a 
delusion.  I  had  not  seen  her,  nor  anyone  like  her  (she 
was  not  at  all  like  her  father),  in  the  flesh,  but  I  had 
seen  pictures  that  were  like  her.  Not  modern  pictures, 
but  sixteenth-  or  seventeenth-century  portraits.  Her 
hair  was  brown  with  ruddy  tips,  her  brows  not  arched 
but  very  straight,  her  nose  fine-cut  and  high,  her 
mouth  not  large  but  her  lips  very  red.  Her  chin  was 
rather  long,  and  her  face  wore  the  smooth,  almost 
waxy,  pallor  which  the  pictures  I  was  reminded  of  are 
apt  to  exhibit.  Her  eyes  were  so  pronounced  and 
bright  a  hazel  that,  seeing  them  on  a  canvas,  one 
might  have  suspected  the  painter  of  taking  a  liberty 
with  fact  for  the  sake  of  his  composition. 

Cartmell  broke  the  silence.  "  Since  he  wrote  you  a 
letter,  may  I  venture  to  ask — ?  "  He  stopped  and 
glanced  at  me.  "  Perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  giving 
us  five  minutes  to  ourselves,  Austin?  " 

I  thought  the  request  not  unnatural,  and  rose 
promptly  from  my  chair.  But  we  had  reckoned  with- 
out our  host — our  new  host. 

'  Why  do  you  tell  him  to  go?  "  she  demanded  of 


20  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Cartmell  with  a  sudden  sharpness.  "  I  don't  ask  him 
to  go.  I  don't  want  him  to  go.  Sit  down,  please,  Mr. 
Austin." 

Cartmell  had  his  two  elbows  on  the  table;  he  bit  his 
thumb  as  he  glanced  up  at  her  from  under  raised 
brows.  He  was  not  often  called  to  book  so  sharply 
as  that.  I  thought  that  she  would  make  apology,  but 
she  made  none.  As  I  obediently — and,  I  fear,  hastily 
— sat  down  again,  she  took  a  letter  from  a  little  bag 
which  hung  at  her  waist. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  ask?  "  she  said  to  Cart- 
mell in  a  tone  which  was  smooth  but  by  no  means 
overconciliatory. 

Cartmell's  manner  said  "  Have  it  if  you  want  it!  " 
as  he  inquired  bluntly,  "  Does  your  father  say  any- 
thing about  your  mother?  " 

She  took  the  letter  from  its  envelope  and  unfolded 
it.  "  About  my  mother  he  says  this:  '  It  is  necessary 
for  me  to  say  a  few  words  about  your  mother.  Mr. 
Cartmell  is  in  possession  of  all  proofs  necessary  to 
establish  your  position  as  my  daughter,  and  there  is  no 
need  for  you  to  trouble  your  head  about  that,  as  not 
the  smallest  difficulty  can  arise.  The  personal  aspect 
of  the  case  is  that  on  which  I  must  touch.  Three  years 
after  your  birth  your  mother  left  me  under  circum- 
stances which  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  have  any 
further  communication  with  her.  She  went  to  Aus- 
tralia, and  died  five  years  later  in  Melbourne  from 
an  attack  of  typhoid  fever.  I  caused  constant  inquiry 
to  be  made  as  to  her  position  and  took  measures  to 
secure  that  she  should  suffer  no  hardship.  The  cir- 
cumstances to  which  I  have  referred  made  it  impera- 


MAKING    AMENDS  21 

tive  that  I  should  remove  you  from  her  charge.  As 
she  consented  to  give  up  all  claim  on  you,  I  did  not 
go  to  the  trouble  of  obtaining  a  divorce — which  she 
did  not  desire  either,  as  matters  had  been  kept  quiet. 
You  will  ask,  and  with  reason,  why  I  did  not  bring 
you  up  myself,  and  why  I  have  delayed  publicly 
acknowledging  you  as  my  daughter  till  the  hour  of 
my  death.  I  can  give  no  reason  good  to  the  world. 
I  can  give  none  good  to  my  own  conscience,  unless 
it  is  a  good  one  to  say  that  a  man  is  what  God  made 
him  and  that  there  are  some  things  impossible  to 
some  men.  It  will  seem  a  hard  saying,  but  I  could 
not  endure  to  have  you  with  me.  I  know  myself,  and 
I  can  only  assure  you  that,  if  your  childhood  has  not 
been  a  very  happy  one  as  it  is,  it  would  have  been 
no  happier  if  spent  under  my  roof.  Now  we  have  been 
only  strangers — you  would  have  been  worse  than  a 
stranger  then.'  " 

Miss  Driver,  who  had  read  in  a  low  but  level  and 
composed  voice,  paused  here  for  a  moment — perhaps 
in  doubt  whether  to  read  more.  Then  she  went  on: 
"  '  With  that  much  excuse — for  I  have  none  other — I 
must  now,  my  daughter,  say  good-by,  for  I  am  dying. 
Though  of  my  own  choice  I  have  not  seen  you  since 
your  infancy.  I  have  not  been  without  thought  for 
you.  I  hesitated  long  before  throwing  on  your  shoul- 
ders all  the  burden  which  I  have  created  for  my  own 
and  carried  on  them.  But  in  the  end  nature  has 
seemed  to  say  to  me — and  to  speak  more  strongly  as 
I  grow  weaker — that  you  are  the  person  to  whom  it 
should  belong  and  that,  if  things  go  wrong,  it  will 
be  nature's  fault,  not  mine.  Don't  spend  more  than 


22  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

two-thirds  of  your  income — the  other  third  should 
go  back  to  work  and  bring  in  more.  Give  handsomely 
when  you  give,  but  don't  be  always  dribbling  out 
small  sums;  they  mount  up  against  you  without  aid- 
ing the  recipients.  Go  to  church  unless  you  really  dis- 
like it.  Be  independent,  but  not  eccentric.  You  have 
a  great  position;  make  it  greater.  Be  a  power  in 
your  world.  About  love  and  marriage,  remember  al- 
ways that  being  sensible  in  general  matters  is  no 
guarantee  that  you  will  act  sensibly  there.  So  be 
doubly  on  your  guard.  Suspect  and  fear  marriage, 
even  while  you  seek  the  best  alliance  you  can  find. 
Be  you  man  or  woman,  by  marriage  you  give  another 
a  power  over  you.  Suspect  it — suspect  your  lover — 
suspect  yourself.  You  need  fear  no  man  except  the 
man  to  whom  you  have  given  yourself.  With  earnest 
wishes  for  your  welfare,  I  remain  your  affectionate 
father — Nicholas  Driver.'  " 

During  the  reading  Cartmell's  face  had  been  dis- 
turbed and  sad;  once  or  twice  he  fidgeted  restively 
in  his  chair.  I  had  listened  intently,  seeming  again  to 
hear  the  measured  full  voice,  the  hard  clean-cut 
counsels,  to  which  I  had  listened  almost  daily  for  the 
last  four  years.  Fine  sense!  And  a  heart  somewhere? 
I  was  inclined  to  answer  yes — but  how  deep  it  lay, 
and  what  a  lot  of  digging  to  get  there!  He  had  never 
given  his  daughter  one  chance  of  so  much  as  put- 
ting her  hand  to  the  spade. 

She  tucked  the  letter  away  in  her  little  bag;  she 
was  smiling  again  by  now.  I  had  smiled  myself — my 
memories  being  so  acutely  touched;  but  she  must 
have  smiled  for  discernment,  not  for  memory. 


MAKING    AMENDS  23 

"  Now  I  think  I  should  like  to  go  and  see  him." 

Cartmell  excused  himself,  as  I  knew  he  would. 

"  I've  never  seen  him,  that  I  can  remember,  you 
know,"  she  said. 

The  meeting  of  the  Catsford  Corporation  (the  town 
had  become  a  borough  ten  years  before — largely 
owing  to  Mr.  Driver's  efforts)  could  not  wait.  But 
Cartmell  had  one  thing  to  say  before  he  went;  it 
was  not  on  business,  nor  arising  out  of  the  letter; 
he  was  to  have  a  full  business  discussion  with  her 
on  the  morrow.  He  took  her  hand  in  both  of  his 
and  pressed  it — forgetful  apparently  of  her  sharp 
rebuke. 

"  You  can't  live  in  this  great  house  all  alone,"  he 
said.  "  I  wonder  your  father  said  nothing  about 
that!" 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right.  Chat's  coming  in  a  week. 
She'd  have  come  with  me,  but  Mrs.  Simpson  wouldn't 
let  her  go  till  a  new  governess  could  be  got.  Four 
girls,  you  see,  and  Mrs.  Simpson  thinks  she's  an  in- 
valid. Besides,  Chat  wouldn't  come  without  a  new 
black  silk  dress.  So  I  had  to  give  her  most  of  that 
money — and  she'll  be  here  in  a  week — and  I  haven't 
got  a  new  dress." 

I  noticed  that  her  black  dress  was  far  from  new. 
It  was,  in  fact,  rather  rusty.  Her  black  straw  hat, 
however,  appeared  to  be  new.  It  was  a  large  spread- 
ing sort  of  hat. 

:  Yes,  Mr.  Austin,  the  hat's  new,"  she  remarked. 

The  girl  seemed  to  have  a  knack  of  noticing  where 
one's  eyes  happened  to  be. 

'  I  can  give  you  lots  of  money,"  Cartmell  assured 


24  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

her.  "  And — er — '  Chat '  was  governess  at  the  Simp- 
sons', was  she?  " 

"  Yes,  she's  been  there  for  years,  but  she's  very 
fond  of  me,  and  agreed  to  come  and  be  my  com- 
panion. She  taught  me  all  I  know.  I'm  sure  you'll 
like  Chat." 

"  You  can  only  try  her,"  said  he,  rather  doubtfully. 
I  think  that  he  would  have  preferred,  Miss  Driver,  to 
cut  loose  from  the  old  days  altogether.  "  But,  you 
know,  we  can't  call  her  just  '  Chat.'  It  must  be  short 
for  something?  " 

"  Short  for  Chatters — Miss  Chatters.  And  she  says 
Chatters  is  really — or  was  really — Charteris.  That's 
pronounced  Charters,  isn't  it?  "  She  addressed  the 
last  question  to  me,  and  I  said  that  I  believed  she  was 
right.  "  I  shall  get  on  very  well  by  myself  till  she 
comes."  She  questioned  me  again.  "  Do  you  live  in 
the  house?  " 

"  No,  I  live  down  at  the  Old  Priory.  But  I  have  my 
office  in  the  house." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Now,  if  Mr.  Cartmell  must  go,  will  you 
take  me  up?  " 

She  stopped  a  moment,  though,  to  look  at  the 
pictures — old  Mr.  Driver  had  bought  some  good 
ones — and  so  gave  me  one  word  with  Cartmell. 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  he  whispered.  "  Chat's  a  fool. 
People  who  keep  telling  you  their  names  ought  to  be 
spelt  like  better  names,  when  they  aren't,  are  always 
fools.  Why  don't  they  spell  'em  that  way,  or  else  let 
it  alone?" 

There  seemed  to  be  a  good  deal  in  that. 

Cartmell  gone,   we  went   together  up  the  broad 


MAKING    AMENDS  25 

staircase  which  sprang  from  the  center  of  the  hall. 
As  we  passed  a  chair,  she  took  off  her  hat  and  flung 
it  down.  The  rich  masses  old  brown  hair,  coiled  about 
her  head,  caught  the  sun  of  a  bright  spring  after- 
noon; she  ran  swiftly  and  lightly  up  the  stairs.  "  Nice, 
soft,  thick,  carpet!"  she  remarked.  I  began  to  per- 
ceive that  she  would  enjoy  the  incidental  luxuries  of 
her  new  position — and  that  she  did  enjoy  the  one 
great  luxury — life.  I  fancied  that  she  enjoyed  it  enor- 
mously. 

We  trod  another  "  nice,  soft,  thick,  carpet  "  for  the 
length  of  a  long  passage  and  came  to  his  door.  I 
opened  it,  let  her  pass  in,  and  was  about  to  close  it 
after  her.  But  as  we  reached  his  room,  a  sudden 
shadow  of  trouble  or  of  fear  had  fallen  upon  her — 
grief  it  could  hardly  be. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  Come  in,  too.  Remember — he's 
a  stranger." 

To  be  in  the  room  with  the  dead  seems  to  be  itself 
a  partaking  of  death;  it  is  at  least,  for  a  moment, 
a  suspension  of  life.  Yet  the  still  welcome  is  not  un- 
friendly. 

She  walked  toward  the  bed  alone,  but  in  an  in- 
stant beckoned  to  me  to  follow  her.  She  bent  down 
and  moved  the  covering.  His  broad  strong  face 
looked  resolute  and  brave  as  ever.  It  looked — to 
speak  truth — as  hard  as  ever  also. 

Her  eyes  were  set  on  him;  suddenly  she  caught  hold 
of  my  hand;  "  Don't  go."  I  pressed  her  hand,  for  I 
heard  her  breathing  quickly.  I  just  caught  her  next 
words:  "  He  might  have  given  me  a  chance!  " 

'  I  believe  he  was  sorry  about  that  at  the  end." 


26  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

She  shook  her  head.  "  He's  given  you  a  big  chance 


now." 


She  nodded,  but  absently.  "  How  strange  to — to  be 
his  doing — and  he  there!  And  then — all  this!  "  She 
let  go  my  hand,  took  a  step  forward,  bent  and  kissed 
his  brow  quickly.  "  How  cold!  "  she  murmured  and 
grasped  my  hand  tightly  again.  To  my  fancy  she 
seemed  surprised — and  relieved — that  the  sleeper  did 
not  stir. 

We  were — as  I  say — out  of  the  world;  we  were  just 
two  creatures,  living  for  a  little  while,  by  the  side  of 
a  third  who  lived  no  more. 

"  You  shouldn't  kiss  him  unless  you  forgive,"  I 
said. 

She  kissed  him  again  and  drew  the  sheet  over  his 
face. 

"  He  must  have  been  a  fine  man.  I  forgive.  Come, 
let's  go." 

Outside,  the  world  was  with  us — and  I  wonder- 
ing whether  that  was  what  I  had  really  said. 

At  least  she  seemed  to  bear  me  no  ill-will.  "  Are 
you  free  to  come  for  a  walk?  "  she  asked.  "  I  should 
like  some  fresh  air." 

"Would  you  like  to  see  the  gardens?" 

"  No — that  means  pottering.  Take  me  for  a  good 
spin." 

By  a  happy  thought  I  remembered  Tor  Hill  and 
took  her  there.  The  hill  lies  at  the  extremity  of  the 
Priory  park,  looking  down  on  the  road  which  sep- 
arates our  dominions  from  the  Fillingford  country; 
beyond  the  road  the  Manor  itself  can  be  seen  by 
glimpses  through  the  woods  which  surround  it.  Cats- 


MAKING    AMENDS  27 

ford  lies  in  the  valley  to  the  left;  away  to  the  right, 
but  not  in  sight,  lay  Oxley  Lodge,  and  Overington 
Grange,  the  seat  of  Sir  John  Aspenick.  Here  she 
could  take  a  bird's-eye  view  of  her  position  and  that 
of  her  nearest  neighbors. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  Fillingford,"  she  remarked. 
"  My  father  mentioned  it — in  the  earlier  part  of  that 
letter.  He  said  that  he  had  wanted  to  buy  it,  but  Lord 
Fillingford  couldn't  or  wouldn't  sell." 

"  His  son's  consent  was  necessary — that's  the  pres- 
ent man — and  he  wouldn't  give  it.  Indeed  the  story 
runs  that  he  hated  Mr.  Driver  for  trying  to  buy." 

She  seemed  to  take  as  careful  a  view  of  Fillingford 
Manor  as  the  distance  and  the  trees  allowed. 

My  father  seems  to  have  been  sorry  he  couldn't 
buy  it.  He  seemed  to  think  it  might  still  be  sold." 

"  Surely  you've  got  enough!  And,  for  my  part,  I 
should  much  prefer  the  Priory.  It's  muggy  down 
there  in  the  valley — though  I  believe  it's  a  very  fine 
house." 

"  You've  not  been  there?  " 

"  No.  We  of  the  Priory  have  had  small  dealings 
with  Fillingford  lately.  We've  kept  up  the  forms  of 
civility — but  it's  been  very  distant.  Underneath, 
there's  been  a  kind  of  silent  feud — well,  more  or  less 
silent;  but  I  daresay  that'll  be  all  over  now." 

"  My  father  wrote  '  Possibly  you  in  your  way  may 
succeed  better  than  I  in  mine.'  " 

"  Fillingford  wouldn't  sell.  He's  hard  up,  but  he 
can  get  along.  And  there's  always  the  chance  of  a 
rich  marriage  for  his  son — or  even  for  himself." 

I  really  spoke  without  any  thought  of  a  personal 


28  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

reference,  but  I  perceived,  directly  afterward,  that 
I  might  well  seem  to  have  made  one;  a  marriage  with 
Miss  Driver  would  be  undoubtedly  rich.  She  gave 
no  sign,  however,  of  taking  my  remark  in  that  sense, 
unless  any  inference  can  be  drawn  from  her  saying, 
"  Oh,  he's  a  widower?  " 

"  He's  a  widower  of  forty,  or  a  year  or  two  more 
— and  he's  got  a  son  of  about  seventeen — a  very 
good-looking  lad.  His  sister,  Lady  Sarah  Lacey,  keeps 
house  for  him,  and  according  to  local  gossip  is  a  bit 
of  a  shrew." 

She  began  to  laugh  as  she  said  with  a  mock  sigh, 
"  One's  too  old  for  me,  and  the  other's  too  young — 
they  must  look  somewhere  else,  I'm  afraid!  And  then 
— how  should  I  get  on  with  the  shrew?  I'm  rather 
a  shrew  myself — at  least  I've  been  told  so." 

"  You'd  better  let  them  alone,"  I  counseled  her 
with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shan't  do  that,"  she  rejoined  with  a 
decisiveness  which  I  began  to  recognize  as  an  oc- 
casional feature  of  her  speech.  "  It'll  be  more  amusing 
to  see  what  they're  like — presently.  And  what  of  the 
Dormers?  My  father  mentioned  them." 

"  A  very  nice  old  couple — but  I  fear  he's  failing." 

A  slight  grimace  dismissed  the  Dormers  as  not 
holding  much  interest  for  her. 

"  Oh,  you  won't  want  for  neighbors.  There  are 
plenty  of  them,  and  they'll  all  be  tremendously  ex- 
cited about  you  and  will  flock  to  call  as  soon  as  you 
can  receive  them." 

"  It  must  seem  funny  to  them.  I  suppose  they'd 
never  heard  of  me?  " 


MAKING    AMENDS  29 

"  I  don't  believe  any  of  them  had.  Your  father  had 
no  intimates,  unless  Mr.  Cartmell  can  be  called  one. 
Besides — well,  I'd  never  heard  of  you  myself!  " 

"  And  here  we  are  old  friends!  "  she  said  graciously. 

'  That's  very  kind — but  you  mustn't  think  yourself 
bound  to  take  over  the  secretary  with  the  rest  of  the 
furniture." 

She  looked  steadily  in  my  face  for  several  seconds, 
seeming  to  size  me  up — if  I  may  be  allowed  the  ex- 
pression. Then  she  smiled — not  gayly,  yet  again  by 
no  means  sadly.  It  was  the  smile  which  I  came  to 
call  later  her  mystery  smile;  and,  as  a  general  rule, 
it  meant — in  plain  language — mischief.  Of  course,  on 
this  first  day  I  did  not  attach  these  associations  to  it. 
It  struck  me  as  merely  rather  curious;  as  a  man  talks 
to  himself,  so  she  seemed  to  smile  to  herself,  forget- 
ting her  interlocutor. 

"  Oh,  well — stay  and  see  how  you  like  me,"  she 
said. 


CHAPTER    III 

ON   THE   USE   OF   SCRAPES 

WE  were  settling  down.  It  was  a  week  since 
the  funeral.  The  borough  and  the  neighbor- 
hood had  survived  their  first  stupefaction 
at  the  apparition  of  Miss  Driver;  the  local  journals 
had  achieved  their  articles,  organs  of  wider  circu- 
lation and  greater  dignity  their  paragraphs;  the  chari- 
ties which  received  legacies  had  given  thanks,  those 
which  did  not  were  turning  resigned  but  hopeful  eyes 
to  the  future.  The  undertaker  sent  in  his  bill,  and  the 
Town  Council  discussed  the  project  of  a  Driver  Me- 
morial Hall — with  a  hardly  disguised  anticipation  of 
the  quarter  from  which  the  bulk  of  the  money  was 
to  come. 

There  was  really  not  much  more  to  do  till  Miss 
Driver's  first  days  of  mourning  were  over,  and  the 
fascinating  speculations  as  to  her  personal  gifts  and 
qualities  could  look  to  find  some  satisfaction  from  her 
appearances  on  public  and  private  occasions.  Only 
Cartmell  still  was — and  would  be  for  weeks — busy  on 
the  labors  attendant  on  the  transfer  of  a  great  estate, 
and  the  rearrangements  necessitated  by  the  loss  of  an 
able  and  experienced  man — a  masterly  worker — and 
the  succession  of  a  girl   ignorant   of  business.   For 

3° 


ON    THE    USE    OF    SCRAPES  31 

the  rest  we  were,  as  I  say,  settling  down.  Even  Cart- 
mell's  activity  caused  us  at  Breysgate  no  sense  of 
bustle,  for  it  took  him  to  London  the  day  after  the 
funeral  and  kept  him  there  for  above  a  fortnight. 

When  I  say  that  "  we  "  were  settling  down  I  mean 
the  trio  formed  by  Miss  Driver,  myself — and  Miss 
Emily  Chatters.  It  is  my  duty  to  introduce  Miss  Chat- 
ters with  proper  formality,  and  I  will  introduce  her 
presently — but  let  us  take  people  in  their  order.  Miss 
Driver  had  inspected  her  property  (except  the  wine 
cellar  which,  to  Loft's  dismay,  she  declined  to  enter); 
she  had  chosen  her  own  set  of  rooms  and  given  or- 
ders for  them  to  be  entirely  refurnished;  she  had 
announced  her  intention — and  small  blame  to  her — 
of  extending  the  refurnishing  process  to  all  the 
sitting-rooms — at  least  to  the  sitting-rooms;  she  had 
chosen  her  own  hack  from  the  stables — and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  she  had  done  what  was  immediately 
requisite  as  regards  her  wardrobe.  At  any  rate,  an 
air  of  achievement  dwelt  about  her.  For  my  part  I 
performed  my  duties,  and  began  to  find  that  I  had 
less  work  to  do — and  more  time  occupied  in  doing  it. 
In  Mr.  Driver's  day  we  worked  as  few  men  except 
Mr.  Driver  understood  work  from  ten  to  one;  then, 
as  a  rule,  I  was  free.  Under  the  new  regime  we 
worked  at  a  gentler  pressure — a  much  gentler  pres- 
sure^— for  the  same  morning  hours;  but  I  stayed  to 
lunch  always,  I  came  back  to  tea  frequently,  and  I 
returned  to  dinner  two  or  three  evenings  in  the  week. 
My  duties  as  secretary  grew  lighter,  but  I  seemed  to 
be  assuming  the  functions  of  a  companion.  I  may  do 
myself  the  incidental  justice  of  saying  that  I  rather 


32  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

resented  this  tendency  to  transform  my  office;  but 
it  was  not  easy  to  resist.  She  was  paying  for  my 
whole  time  as  her  father  had  paid  for  it;  it  was  her 
right,  within  wide  limits,  to  say  to  what  uses  it  should 
be  put.  Or — I  could  go.  The  liberty — perhaps  it  is 
rather  theoretical — of  "  chucking  my  job  "  remained 
to  me  as  to  every  free-born  Englishman — who  sees 
his  way  to  getting  another  whereby  to  live.  Not  that 
I  wished  to  surrender  mine;  I  was  interested  and — 
to  tell  the  truth — I  grew,  within  our  jurisdiction, 
important.  She  approached  the  assumption  of  her 
power  cautiously,  and  at  first  would  return  almost 
any  answer  to  almost  any  letter  at  my  suggestion. 
I  did  not  expect  this  to  last,  but  so  it  was  for  the 
moment.  For  instance  it  was  I,  in  ultimate  reality, 
who  offered  that  ten  thousand  pounds  toward  the 
Memorial  Hall.  I  had  a  great  difficulty  in  fixing  the 
proper  figure.  If  I  may  judge  from  the  language  em- 
ployed by  the  Mayor  (Councillor  Bindlecombe)  in 
public,  I  exceeded  all  possible  anticipations  of  munifi- 
cence; in  private,  I  am  told,  he  confessed  to  having 
entertained  a  hope  of  fifteen  thousand.  I  imagine 
that  my  figure  was  not,  on  a  balancing  of  considera- 
tions, far  wide  of  the  mark.  Cartmell  thought  five 
thousand  would  have  served — but  old  Cartmell  was 
a  screw  with  other  people's  money.  I  remembered 
"  Give  handsomely  when  you  give."  So,  I  think,  did 
Jenny  Driver.  All  the  same,  Bindlecombe  did,  in  my 
opinion,  open  his  mouth  a  bit  too  wide. 

Miss  Chatters  came  two  days  after  the  funeral — ■ 
in  the  new  black  silk  dress:  it  rustled  powerfully.  She 
was  tall,  had  pale-brown  hair  with  a  broad  parting  in 


ON    THE    USE   OF    SCRAPES  33 

the  middle,  a  very  long  inquiring  nose,  faded  blue 
eyes,  an  absolutely  flat  chin,  and — inconceivable  gen- 
tility. If  we  others  were  settling  she  settled  far 
quicker.  She  took  the  bedroom  next  to  Jenny 
Driver's;  she  annexed  a  small  sitting-room  for  her 
own — next  but  one  to  Jenny  Driver's;  she  had  a 
glass  of  the  best  port  every  day  at  eleven.  ("  She 
came  down  to  the  cellar  and  chose  the  bin  herself, 
sir,"  Loft  informed  me  with  a  wry  smile  of  grudge 
for  his  dearest  possessions.)  Yet  all  these  acts  of 
proprietorship — for  they  pretty  nearly  came  to  that 
— were  performed  with  a  meekness,  a  deprecation,  a 
ladylikeness  (I  can  find  no  other  word)  that  made 
opposition  seem  unkind  and  criticism  ungenerous. 
It  was  only  "  Poor  Chat!  "  She  had  a  habit  of  talking 
to  Jenny  in  a  kind  of  baby-language,  and  used  to 
refer  to  herself  as  "  Poor  Chat."  "  Poor  Chat  doesn't 
know! ;'  "  Poor  Chat's  not  wise!  "  Also  she  did  keep 
talking  about  her  name  and  the  respectability  of  her 
descent.  In  fact  she  was  a  woman  of  a  number  of 
silly  affectations  and  one  or  two  exasperating  foibles, 
and  Cartmell  never  varied  from  his  impromptu  judg- 
ment— expressed  before  he  had  seen  her — that  she 
was  a  fool.  It  is  my  deliberate  opinion  that  she  wished 
to  be  thought  more  of  a  fool  than  she  was — partly 
from  an  idea  that  little  sillinesses  and  affectations 
were  genteel,  partly  with  the  notion  that  they  were 
disarming.  She  seemed  always  bent  on  showing  you 
that  she  was  not  the  sort  of  person  from  whom  any 
opposition  need  be  feared,  nor  any  undue  exercise  of 
influence  apprehended.  It  could  only  be  supposed  that 
she  had  found  this  line  of  conduct  useful  in  her  rela- 


34  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

tions  toward  her  employers;  by  contrast  it  flattered 
both  their  superior  brains  and  their  superior  positions. 
I  allow  for  her  natural  taste,  for  her  standards  of  gen- 
tility. But  she  was  a  snob,  too,  "  Poor  Chat,"  and  a 
time-server. 

No  harder  words  than  those  need  be  used  about 
her — and  they  are  too  hard  perhaps;  for  there  is  one 
thing  to  be  said  on  the  other  side — and  it  is  a  thing  of 
weight.  Chat  was  fifty;  as  a  governess  she  was  hope- 
lessly out  of  date;  I  do  not  suppose  that  she  saw  her 
daily  bread  secure  for  three  months  ahead.  For  a 
hundred  pounds  a  year  certain — secure  from  the 
caprice  of  employers  or  of  fate — she  would  probably 
have  done  or  been  anything — even,  so  far  as  she 
could,  honest. 

But  honesty  alone,  as  she  may  well  have  reflected, 
does  not  breed  security  of  tenure  in  subordinate 
positions.  I  am  far  from  saying  that  it  ought;  on  the 
whole  I  consider  it  to  be  a  commoner,  and  therefore  a 
cheaper  and  more  easily  obtainable — and  replaceable 
— commodity  than  either  a  good  brain  or  an  agree- 
able demeanor.  At  any  rate  how  easily  it  may  come 
near  to  costing  a  man  his  place  I  was  very  soon  to 
discover  by  my  own  experience.  Well,  perhaps,  to 
honesty  I  ought  to  add  a  lack  of  diplomacy  and  a 
temper  naturally  hot.  But  I  am  not  sure:  I  cannot 
see  how  any  man  could  have  done  anything  very  dif- 
ferent— given  that  he  was  barely  honest. 

"  There's  a  person  in  the  drawing-room  with  the 
ladies,  sir,"  said  Loft  one  day  when  I  came  up  to 
tea  at  four  o'clock. 

Loft's  social  terminology  was  exact.  When  he  said 


ON   THE   USE    OF   SCRAPES  35 

a  "  person  "  he  did  not  mean  a  "  gentleman  " — who 
was  a  gentleman — nor  a  "  man  " — who  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  definitely  lower  orders  of  the  community; 
he  meant  somebody  in  between,  one  of  the  doubtful 
cases. 

"  A  Mr.  Powers,  sir.  He's  been  here  perhaps  half 
an  hour." 

It  may  readily  be  supposed  that  I  had  not  forgotten 
the  name  of  Powers;  the  name  and  the  incident  were 
irrevocably — and  uncomfortably — fixed  in  my  mind. 
This  "  person  "  might  not  be  the  same  Powers,  but 
in  overwhelming  probability  he  was.  Even  if  Jenny 
had  not  been  in  communication  with  him — and  I  did 
not  believe  that  she  had — the  paragraphs  would  easily 
have  brought  about  this  visit — or  visitation.  He  came 
scenting  prey — he  had  read  of  the  heiress!  But  why 
had  she  let  him  in? 

"  Did  he  give  you  a  card,  Loft?  v 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  took  it  in,  and  Miss  Driver  told  me  to 
ask  the  person  to  come  in." 

If  it  were  not  material,  neither  was  it  necessary  to 
ask  what  Loft  thought  about  the  matter.  Plainly  Mr. 
Powers  was  not  up  to  his  standard  for  drawing-room 
visitors. 

"  Have  you  got  the  card?  " 

He  took  it  from  the  hall  table.  "  Mr.  Nelson  Pow- 
ers." There  was  no  address. 

"  All  right,  Loft.  But  before  I  join  them,  I  want  to 
telephone  to  London."  Of  course  Mr.  Driver  had 
installed  a  telephone,  and  many  a  day  we  had  kept 
it  very  busy." 

By  luck  I   got  into  speedy  communication  with 


36  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Cartmell  at  his  hotel.  He  heard  my  news.  His  answer 
was  to  the  point:  "  Kick  him  out." 

"  But  if  I  try  to  do  that,  it  gives  you  away.  You're 
not  supposed  to  have  told  me." 

"  Then  give  me  away,"  came  back  instantly.  "  Only 
get  him  out.  He's  a  dangerous  rascal — and  not  fit  for 
any  decent  man  or  woman  to  talk  to.  How  in  Heav- 
en's name  she  can " 

"  Perhaps  she's  frightened,"  I  pleaded.  He  an- 
swered only  "  Kick  him  out,"  and  cut  off  communi- 
cation. 

She  did  not  look  at  all  frightened  when  I  went  in. 
She  was  standing  opposite  Powers,  smiling  gayly  and 
mischievously.  Powers  was  apparently  just  taking  his 
leave.  So  much  gained!  I  determined  to  go  to  the 
hall  with  him  and  give  him  a  hint,  on  Cartmell's  be- 
half, that  he  need  not  come  again.  But  things  were 
not  to  be  as  easy  as  that. 

"  Well,  then,  we  shall  see  you  at  eight  o'clock," 
said  Jenny,  giving  him  her  hand. 

"  Delighted,"  said  he,  bowing  low.  "  Good  after- 
noon. Good  afternoon,  Miss  Chatters."  Chat  was  sit- 
ting by,  tatting.  She  habitually  tatted. 

"  This  is  my  old  friend  Mr.  Nelson  Powers,"  said 
Jenny.  "  Mr.  Powers — Mr.  Austin."  We  bowed — 
neither  of  us  cordially.  The  man's  eyes  were  wary 
and  very  alert;  he  looked  at  me  as  though  I  might 
be  a  policeman  in  plain  clothes;  possibly  my  expres- 
sion gave  him  some  excuse. 

Jenny  rang  the  bell.  "  Mr.  Powers  is  coming  back 
to  dinner.  You'll  come,  of  course?  We  shall  have  a 
pleasant  little  party  of  four!  " 


ON    THE    USE    OF    SCRAPES  37 

"  I'm  sorry,  but  I'm  engaged  to  dinner  to-night." 

Jenny  gave  me  a  quick  look,  Chat  gave  me  a 
long  one.  Loft  appeared.  "An  rcvoir,  Mr.  Powers!  " 
With  a  pronounced  bow  over  his  hat  Powers  was  out 
of  the  room.  I  made  no  effort  to  follow.  Jenny's  face 
told  me  that  the  battle  was  to  be  fought  where  we 
were. 

She  poured  out  a  cup  of  tea  and  gave  it  to  me. 
Then,  as  she  sat  down,  she  said,  "  I'm  sorry  you  can't 
come  to-night.  Where  are  you  going?  " 

I  did  not  want  Chat  there — but  I  remembered 
what  happened  to  Cartmell  when  he  did  not  want  me 
there. 

"  I'm  not  going  anywhere,"  I  said. 

Her  pallid  face  flushed  a  little,  but  she  smiled.  Chat 
looked  at  her  and  got  up;  no,  Chat  was  not  altogether 
a  fool!  "  Yes,  please,  Chat,"  said  Jenny  very  quietly. 
Chat  left  us.  I  finished  my  tea — it  was  cold,  and  easy 
to  gulp  down — and  waited  for  the  storm. 

"  You've  nothing  to  add  to  your  polite  excuses?  " 
she  inquired. 

"  Does  that  gentleman  come  from  Cheltenham?  " 

"  Yes,  from  Cheltenham,  Mr.  Austin.  But  how  did 
you  come  to  know  that?  Did  my  father  mention 
him?  "  She  was  not  embarrassed — only  very  angry. 

"  No." 

"It  was  Mr.  Cartmell?" 
Yes.  He  had  no  right,  I  daresay,  but  I'm  glad 
he  did — and  so  will  he  be." 

'  If  both  my  solicitor  and  my  secretary  are 
glad — !  "  She  broke  off  with  a  scornful  laugh.  "  I'm 
not  going  to  discuss  the  matter  with  you,  but  I  like 


38  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

people  who  are  about  me  to  receive  my  invitations 
with  politeness." 

"  This  isn't  easy  for  me,  Miss  Driver,  but — that 
man  oughtn't  to  come  to  this  house.  He  oughtn't  to 
be  allowed  to  see  you." 

She  rose  from  her  chair,  her  eyes  set  unmovingly 
on  my  face.  Her  voice  was  low.  "  How  dare  you  say 
that?  How  dare  you?  Am  I  to  take  orders  from  you 
— my  secretary — my  servant?  " 

"  You  called  me  your  friend  the  other  day." 

"  I  seem  to  have  been  hasty.  A  kind  friend  indeed 
to  listen  to  stories  against  me!  " 

"  The  story  is  against  the  man — not  against  you." 

"  Are  you  dining  with  any  other  friends  to-night?  " 

"  I've  told  you  that  I'm  not." 

"  Then  I  request — I  desire — that  you  will  make  it 
convenient  to  give  me  the  pleasure  of  your  company 
— to  meet  my  friend,  Mr.  Powers." 

My  temper  went  suddenly.  "  I  won't  sit  at  meat 
with  the  blackguard — above  all,  not  in  your  com- 
pany." 

I  saw  her  fist  clench  itself  by  her  side.  "  I  repeat 
my  request,"  she  said. 

"  I  repeat  my  refusal,  but  I  can  do  no  less  than 
offer  you  my  resignation." 

"  You  won't  accept  my  offer — but  I  accept  yours 
very  gladly." 

"  It  will  be  kind  of  you  to  relieve  me  from  my 
duties  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  To-morrow."  She  turned  her  back  on  me  and 
walked  off  to  the  window.  I  stood  there  a  minute, 
and  then  went  to  the  door.  She  turned  round,  and 


ON    THE    USE    OF    SCRAPES  39 

our  eyes  met.  I  waited  for  a  moment,  but  she  faced 
round  to  the  window  again,  and  I  went  out. 

I  walked  quickly  down  the  hill.  I  was  very  un- 
happy, but  I  was  not  remorseful.  I  knew  that  another 
man  could  have  done  the  thing  much  better,  but  it 
had  been  the  right  thing  to  do  and  I  had  done  it  as 
well  as  I  could.  She  had  made  no  attempt  to  defend 
Powers,  nor  to  deny  what  she  must  have  known  that 
Cartmell  had  said  about  him.  Yet,  while  tacitly  ad- 
mitting that  he  was  a  most  obnoxious  description 
of  blackguard,  she  asked  him  to  dinner — and  ordered 
me  to  sit  by  and  see  them  together.  If  her  service 
entailed  that  sort  of  thing,  then  indeed  there  must 
be  an  end  to  service  with  her.  But  grieved  as  I  was 
that  this  must  be  so — and  the  blow  to  me  was  heavy 
on  all  grounds,  whether  of  interest  or  of  feeling — I 
grieved  more  that  she  should  sit  with  him  herself 
than  that  she  bade  me  witness  what  seemed  in  my 
eyes  her  degradation.  What  was  the  meaning  of  it? 
I  was  at  that  time  nowhere  near  understanding  her. 

My  home  was  no  more  than  a  cottage,  built 
against  the  south  wall  of  the  Old  Priory.  The  front 
door  opened  straight  into  my  parlor,  without  hall  or 
vestibule;  a  steep  little  stair  ran  up  from  the  corner 
of  the  room  itself  and  led  to  my  bedroom  on  the 
floor  above.  Behind  my  parlor  lay  the  kitchen  and 
two  other  rooms,  occupied  by  my  housekeeper,  Mrs. 
Field,  and  her  husband,  who  was  one  of  the  gar- 
deners. It  was  all  very  small,  but  it  was  warm,  snug, 
and  homely.  The  walls  were  covered  almost  com- 
pletely with  my  books,  which  overflowed  on  to  chairs 
and  tables,  too.  When  fire  and  lamp  were  going  in 


40  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

the  evening-,  the  little  room  seemed  to  glow  with 
a  studious  cheerfulness,  and  my  old  leather  arm- 
chair wooed  me  with  affectionate  welcome.  In  four 
years  I  had  taken  good  root  in  my  little  home.  I  had 
to  uproot  myself — to-morrow. 

With  this  pang,  there  came  suddenly  one  deeper. 
I  was  about  to  lose — perforce — what  was  now  re- 
vealed to  me  as  a  great,  though  a  very  new,  interest 
in  my  life.  From  the  first  both  Cartmell  and  I  had 
been  keenly  interested  in  the  heiress — the  lonely  girl 
who  came  to  reign  over  Breysgate  and  to  dispose  of 
those  millions  of  money.  We  had  both,  I  think,  been 
touched  with  a  certain  romantic,  or  pathetic,  element 
in  the  situation.  We  had  not  talked  about  it,  much 
less  had  we  talked  about  what  we  felt  ourselves  or 
about  what  we  meant  to  do;  but  it  had  grown  into 
a  tacit  understanding  between  us  that  more  than  our 
mere  paid  services  were  due  from  us  to  Jenny  Driver. 
No  man  had  been  very  near  her  father,  but  we  had 
been  nearest;  we  did  not  mean  that  his  daughter 
should  be  without  friends  if  she  would  accept  friend- 
ship. Nay,  I  think  we  meant  a  little  more  than  that. 
She  was  young  and  ignorant;  Nick  Driver's  daugh- 
ter might  well  be  willful  and  imperious.  We  meant 
that  she  should  not  easily  escape  our  service  and 
our  friendship;  they  should  be  more  than  offered; 
they  should  be  pressed;  if  need  be,  they  should  be 
secretly  given.  It  had  been  an  honest  idea  of  ours — 
but  it  seemed  hard  to  work  in  practice.  Such  service 
as  I  could  give  was  ended  well-nigh  before  it  had 
begun.  I  thought  it  only  too  likely  that  Cartmell's 
also  would  soon  end,  save,  at  least,  for  strictly  pro- 


ON    THE    USE    OF    SCRAPES  41 

fessional  purposes.  And  I  could  not  see  how  this  end 
was  to  be  avoided  in  his  case  any  more  than  it  had 
been  found  possible  to  avoid  it  in  mine.  With  the  best 
will  in  the  world,  there  were  limits.  "  Some  things 
are  impossible  to  some  men,"  old   Mr.   Driver  had 
said  in  that  letter;  it  had  been  impossible  to  me — as 
it  would,  I  think,  have  been  to   most  men — to  see 
Powers  welcomed  by  her  as  a  gentleman  and  a  friend. 
Yet  I  began  almost  to  be  sorry — almost  to  ask  why 
I  had  not  swallowed  Powers  and  accepted  the  invita- 
tion to  dinner.  Might  I,  in  that  way,  have  had  a  better 
chance  of  getting  rid  of  Powers  in  the  end?  It  would 
have  been  a  wrong  thing  to  do — I  was  still  quite  clear 
about  that — wrong  in  every  way,  and  very  disgusting, 
to  boot;  quite  fatal  to  my  self-respect,  and  an  acquies- 
cence in  a  horrible  want  of  self-respect  in  Jenny.  But 
I  might  have  been  useful  to  her.  Now  I  could  be  of 
no  use.  That  evening  I  first  set  my  feet  on  what  I 
may  perhaps  call  a  moral  slope.  It  looked  a  very  gen- 
tle slope;  there  did  not  appear  to  be  any  danger  in  it; 
it  did  not  look  as  though  you  could  slip  on  it  or 
as  if  it  would  be  difficult  to  recover  yourself  if  slip 
you  did.  But,  in  fact,  at  the  bottom  of  that  moral 
slope — which  grew   steeper  as   it   descended — lay  a 
moral  precipice.  Nothing  less  can  I  call  the  conclusion 
that  anything  which  might  be  useful  to  Jenny  Driver 
became,  by  the  mere  force  of  that  possible  utility, 
morally  right — conduct,  so  to  speak,  becoming  to  an 
officer  and  a  gentleman.  I  was  not,  of  course,  at  all 
aware  that  my  insidious  doubt — or,  rather,  my  puz- 
zling discontent  with  myself — could  lead  to  any  such 
chasm  as  that. 


42  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

I  ate  my  chop  and  tried  to  settle  down  to  my 
books.  First  I  tried  theology,  the  study  of  which  I 
had  by  on  means  abandoned.  But  I  was  not  theologic- 
ally inclined  that  night.  Then  I  took  up  a  magazine; 
politics  emphatically  would  not  do!  I  fell  back  on  an- 
thropology, and  got  on  there  considerably  better. 
Yet  presently  my  attention  wandered  even  from  that. 
I  sat  with  the  book  open  before  me,  at  a  page  where 
three  members  of  the  Warramunga  tribe  were  repre- 
sented in  adornments  that,  on  an  ordinary  evening, 
would  have  filled  me  with  admiration.  No,  I  was 
languid  about  it.  The  last  thing  I  remembered  was 
hearing  the  back  door  locked — which  meant  that  the 
Fields  were  going  to  bed.  After  that  I  fail  to  trace 
events,  but  I  imagine  that  I  speedily  fell  sound  asleep 
— with  the  book  open  before  me  and  my  pipe  lying 
by  it  on  the  table. 

I  awoke  with  a  little  shiver,  pretended  to  myself 
that  I  had  never  stopped  reading,  gave  up  the  pre- 
tence, pushed  back  my  chair  from  the  table,  rose, 
and  turned  to  the  fire  behind  me. 

In  my  old  leather  arm-chair  sat  Jenny  Driver. 

She  wore  a  black  evening  dress,  with  a  cloak  of 
brown  fur  thrown  open  in  front — both,  no  doubt,  new 
acquisitions.  The  fire  had  died  down  to  a  small  heap 
of  bright  red  embers.  When  first  I  saw  her,  she  was 
crouching  close  over  it — the  night  was  chilly — and 
her  face  was  red  with  its  glow. 

"  Miss  Driver!  I — I'm  afraid  I've  been  asleep,"  I 
stammered.  "  Have  you  been  here  long?  " 

She  glanced  at  the  clock;  it  was  half-past  ten. 
"  About  twenty  minutes.  I've  had  a  good  look  round 


ON    THE    USE    OF    SCRAPES  43 

— at  your  room,  and  your  books,  and  that  queer  pic- 
ture which  seems  to  have  sent  you  to  sleep.  Your 
room's  very  comfortable." 

"  Yes,  it's  a  jolly  little  room,"  I  agreed.  "  But 
what ?  " 

"  And  I've  had  a  good  look  at  you,  too,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Austin,  you're  really 
rather  handsome?  " 

"  I  daresay  I  look  my  best  by  lamplight,"  I  sug- 
gested, smiling. 

"  No,  really  I  think  you  are — in  the  thin  ascetic 
style.  I  like  that — anyhow  for  a  change.  Well,  I 
wanted  a  word  with  you,  so  I  waited  till  Chat  went 
to  bed,  and  then  slipped  down." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  observe  that  it 
was  rather  late;  but  a  smile  on  Jenny's  lips  somehow 
informed  me  that  she  expected  just  such  an  objec- 
tion.    So  I  said  nothing. 

'  Chat  and  I  are  going  to  London  to-morrow — to 
shop.  Perhaps  we  may  go  on  to  Paris.  I  thought  you 
might  like  to  say  good-by." 

"  That's  very  kind  of  you.  I'm  glad  we're  not  to 
part  in — well,  as  we  parted  this  afternoon." 

"  If  you  regretted  that,  you  might  have  done  some- 
thing to  prevent  it.  Light  your  pipe  again;  you'll  be 
able  to  think  better — and  I  want  you  to  think  a 
little." 

I  obeyed  her  direction,  she  sitting  for  the  moment 
silent.  I  came  and  stood  opposite  to  her,  leaning  my 
elbow  on  the  mantelpiece. 

"  When  I  first  knew  Mr.  Powers,  I  was  sixteen, 
and  I'd  been  with  the  Smalls  since  I  was  eleven.  You 


44  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

didn't  get  very  discriminating,  living  with  the  Smalls. 
I  met  him  at  a  subscription  dance:  I  didn't  know 
anything  about  his  wife.  He  was  clerk  to  an  archi- 
tect, or  surveyor,  or  something  of  that  sort.  I  met 
him  a  good  many  times  afterwards — for  walks.  He 
was  good-looking  in  his  way,  and  he  said  he  was  in 
love  with  me.  I  fell  in  love  with  him  and,  when  I 
couldn't  get  away  to  meet  him,  I  wrote  letters. 
Then  I  heard  about  the  wife — and  I  wrote  more  let- 
ters. You  know  the  sort — very  miserable,  and,  I  sup- 
pose, very  silly — that  I  didn't  know  what  to  do,  only 
the  world  was  over  for  me — and  so  on.  You  can 
imagine  the  sort  of  letter.  And  I  saw  him — once  or 
twice.  He  told  me  that  he  was  in  great  trouble;  he'd 
been  racing  and  playing  cards  and  couldn't  pay;  he'd 
be  shown  up,  and  lose  his  place — and  what  would 
become  of  his  wife  and  child?  I  flared  up  and  said 
that  I  was  the  last  person  who  was  likely  to  care 
about  his  wife  and  child.  Then  he  suggested  that  I 
should  get  money  from  my  father — he  knew  all  about 
my  father — by  saying  that  I  was  in  some  trouble. 
I  told  him  I  couldn't  possibly;  I  was  never  allowed 
to  write  and  should  only  get  an  answer  from  a  law- 
yer if  I  did — and  certainly  no  money.  He  persisted 
— and  I  persisted.  He  threatened  vaguely  what  he 
could  do.  I  told  him  to  do  as  he  liked — that  I'd  done 
with  him  for  good.  I  never  wrote  again — and  I  never 
saw  him  till  to-day." 

"  When  you  asked  him  to  dinner!  " 

She  smiled,  but  took  no  more  heed.  "  Well,  I  was 
in  a  scrape,  wasn't  I?  I  saw  that  clearly — rather  a 
bad  scrape.  I  didn't  see  what  to  do,  though  I  did  a 


ON    THE    USE    OF    SCRAPES  45 

lot  of  thinking.  Being  in  a  scrape  does  teach  one  to 
think,  doesn't  it?  Then  suddenly — when  I  was  at  my 
wits'  end — it  flashed  across  me  that  possibly  it  might 
all  have  happened  for  the  best.  My  great  object  all 
through  my  girlhood  was,  somehow  or  other,  to  get 
into  touch  with  my  father.  I  believed  that,  if  I  could 
get  a  fair  chance,  I  could  win  him  over  and  persuade 
him  to  let  me  pay  him  a  visit — even  live  with  him 
perhaps.  That  was  my  great  dream — and  I  was  pre- 
pared to  go  through  a  lot  for  the  hope  of  it.  Well, 
it  didn't  come  off.  I  don't  know  what  Mr.  Powers 
did — but  it  was  not  my  father  who  came,  it  was  Mr. 
Cartmell.  I  was  taken  away  from  the  Smalls,  but  not 
allowed  to  come  here.  I  was  sent  to  the  Simpsons. 
My  father  never  wrote  one  word,  good  or  bad,  to 
me.  Mr.  Cartmell  gave  me  a  lecture.  I  didn't  mind 
that.  I  was  so  furious  with  him  for  coming  that  I 
didn't  care  a  straw  what  he  said." 

'His  coming  upset  your  brilliant  idea?" 

"  Yes — that  time.  One  can't  always  succeed.  Still 

it's  wonderful  how  often  a  scrape  can  be  turned  to 

account,   if  you   think  how  to  use   it.   You're  in  a 

corner:  that  sharpens  your  brains;  you  hit  on  some- 


thing." 


'  Perhaps  it  does.  You  seem  to  speak  from  ex- 
perience." 

'  Well,  nobody  means  to  get  into  them,  of  course, 
but  you  get  drawn  on.  It's  fun  to  see  how  far  you 
can  go — and  what  other  people  will  do,  and  so  on." 

"  Rather  dangerous!  " 

'  Well,  perhaps  that's  part  of  the  fun.  By  the  by, 
I  suppose  I  might  get  into  a  little  scrape  if  I  stayed 


46  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

here  much  longer.  Chat  would  be  very  shocked—* 
Loft,  too,  I  expect!" 

"  It  is  getting  on  for  eleven  o'clock." 

"  Yes."  She  rose  and  drew  her  cloak  round  her. 
"  Mr.  Powers  didn't  come  to  dinner,"  she  said.  "  On 
reflection,  I  wrote  to  him  and  told  him  that  it  was 
better  not  to  renew  our  acquaintance,  and  that  he 
must  accept  that  as  my  final  decision." 

"  That's  something  gained,  anyhow,"  said  I,  with 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Something  gained  for  you?  "  she  asked  quickly 
and  suspiciously. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  was  thinking  of  myself  at  the 
moment." 

She  looked  at  me  closely.  "  No,  I  don't  think  you 
were — and  there's  no  real  reason  why  it  should  make 
any  difference  to  you.  Well,  that  depends  on  yourself! 
Mr.  Powers  is  of  no  consequence  one  way  or  the 
other.  The  question  is — are  we  two  to  try  and  get  on 
together." 

"  I  got  on  with  your  father,"  said  I. 

"  You  didn't  tell  my  father  what  he  was  to  do  and 
not  to  do." 

"  Yes,  sometimes — in  social  matters.  It  may  sur- 
prise you  to  hear  it,  but  your  father  was  always  ready 
to  learn  things  that  other  people  could  tell  him." 

"  Well,  here  are  my  concessions.  Never  mind  what 
I  said  this  afternoon — I  was  in  a  rage.  I  won't  call 
you  a  servant  again;  I  won't  make  you  come  to  din- 
ner when  you  don't  want  to;  I  won't  demand  that 
you  meet  my  friends  if  you  don't  want  to." 

"  That's  very  kind  and  handsome  of  you." 


ON    THE    USE    OF    SCRAPES  47 

'  Wait  a  minute.  Now  for  my  side.  Mr.  Austin,  if 
you're  not  a  servant  here,  neither  are  you  a  master. 
Oh,  I  know,  you  disclaim  any  such  idea,  but  still — 
think  over  this  afternoon!  You  can't  stay  here  as  a 
master.  I  daresay  you  think  I  want  a  master.  I  don't 
think  so.  If  I  do,  I  suppose  I  can  marry!  " 

"  For  my  own  part   I  venture  to  hope  you  will 
marry — soon  and  very  happily." 

'  But    my   father?    '  Suspect  and    fear  marriage.' 
You  need  fear  no  man  except  the  man  to  whom  you 
have  given  yourself.'  " 

'  Your  father's  experience  was,  you  know,  unhap- 
pily not  fortunate." 

Her  face  clouded  to  melancholy.  "  I  don't  believe 
mine  would  be,"  she  murmured.  Then  she  raised  her 
voice  again  and  smiled.  "  Neither  servant  nor  master 
— but  friend,  Mr.  Austin?  "  And  she  held  out  her  hand 
to  me.   * 

"  I  accept  most  heartily,  and  I'll  try  to  keep  the 
bargain."  I  put  out  my  hand  to  take  hers,  but,  as  if 
on  a  sudden  thought,  she  drew  hers  back. 

'  Wait  a  moment  still.  What  do  you  mean  by  a 
friend?   One    who    likes   me,    has    my   happiness   at 
heart?" 
"  Yes." 

"  Gives  me  the  best  advice  he  can,  speaking  his 
mind  honestly,  without  fear  and  in  friendship?" 
"  Yes." 

A  touch  of  mockery  in  her  eyes  warned  me  neither 
to  take  the  questions  too  seriously  nor  to  make  my 
answers  too  grave.  The  mockery  crept  into  her  tone 
with  the  next  interrogation. 


48  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  When  I  don't  take  his  advice  and  get  into  a 
scrape,  says,  '  I  told  you  so.  I'm  all  right — you  get 
out  of  your  scrape  in  the  best  way  you  can?  ' 

"  Call  me  no  friend  when  I  say  that,"  I  answered. 

"  Ah!  "  she  whispered  and  gave  me  the  hand  which 
she  before  had  withdrawn.  "  Now  really!  "  she  cried 
gayly,  with  a  glance  at  the  clock.  "  You  go  back  to 
sleep — I  have  to  get  ready  for  a  journey.  No,  don't 
come  with  me.  I'll  run  up  to  the  house  by  myself. 
Good  night,  my — friend!  " 

I  opened  the  door  for  her,  answering,  "  Good 
night."  But  she  had  one  more  word  for  me  before 
she  went,  turning  her  face  to  me,  merry  with  a  smile 
and  twinkling  eyes — 

"  I  suppose  you  haven't  got  a  wife  anywhere,  have 
you,  Mr.  Austin?  "  She  ran  off,  not  waiting  for  an 
answer. 

The  appearance  of  Mr.  Powers  had  not  cost  me  my 
place:  but  it  had  defined  my  position — to  Jenny's 
complete  satisfaction!  It  had  also  elicited  from  her 
some  interesting  observations  on  the  value  of  scrapes 
— the  place  they  hold  in  life,  and  how  a  man — or 
woman — may  turn  them  to  account.  I  felt  that  I 
knew  Jenny  better  for  our  quarrel  and  our  talk. 


CHAPTER    IV 


AN    UNPOPULAR    MAN 


MISS  DRIVER  stayed  away  longer  than  her 
words  had  led  me  to  expect.  London  and 
Paris — the  names  are  in  themselves  ex- 
planation enough.  The  big  world  was  entirely  new  to 
Jenny;  though  she  could  not  yet  take — shall  I  say 
storm? — her  place  in  society,  much  instruction,  and 
more  amusement,  lay  open  to  her  grasp  even  in  the 
days  of  her  obligatory  mourning.  On  the  other  hand 
that  same  period  could  not  but  be  very  tedious  to 
her  if  passed  at  Breysgate.  In  regard  to  her  father's 
memory  she  felt  a  great  curiosity  and  displayed  a 
profound  interest ;  for  the  man  himself  she  could  have 
had  little  affection  and  could  entertain  no  real  grief; 
in  fact,  though  she  professed  and  tried  to  forgive, 
she  never  shook  herself  quite  clear  of  resentment, 
even  though  she,  if  anybody,  ought  to  have  come 
nearest  to  understanding  his  stern  resolve.  That  no- 
body should  ever  again  come  so  near  to  him,  or 
become  so  much  to  him,  as  to  be  able  sorely  to 
wound  him — that  was  how  I  read  his  determination. 
Jenny  ought  to  have  been  able  to  arrive  at  some 
appreciation  of  that.  I  think  she  did — but  she  pro- 
tested in  her  heart  that  his  daughter  should  have 

49 


50  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

been  the  one  exception.  No  good  lay  in  going  back 
to  the  merits  of  that  question.  In  the  result  they  had 
been — strangers:  her  mourning,  then,  was  a  matter 
of  propriety,  not  the  true  demand  of  her  feelings. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  London  and  Paris,  surveyed 
from  the  decent  obscurity  of  a  tourist,  offered  a 
happy  compromise — and  bridged  a  yawning  gulf — 
between  duty  and  the  endurable. 

Meanwhile  the  Great  Seal  was  in  Commission; 
Cartmell,  Loft,  and  I  administered  the  Kingdom — 
Cartmell  Foreign  Affairs,  Loft  the  Interior,  I  the 
Royal  Cabinet.  Cartmell's  sphere  was  the  largest  by 
far — all  the  business  both  of  the  estate  and  of  the 
various  commercial  interests;  Loft's  territory  was 
merely  the  house,  but  his  sense  of  importance  mag- 
nified the  weight  of  his  functions;  to  me  fell  such 
of  Miss  Driver's  work  as  she  did  not  choose  to  trans- 
act herself.  In  fact  I  was  kept  pretty  busy  and  was 
in  constant  communication  with  her.  In  reply  to  my 
letters  I  received  a  few  notes — very  brief  ones — and 
many  telegrams — very  decisive  ones.  As  I  expected, 
it  was  not  long  before  she  took  the  reins  into  her 
own  hands.  In  matters  of  business  she  always  knew 
her  mind — even  if  she  did  not  always  tell  it;  inde- 
cision was  reserved  for  another  department.  But 
neither  in  notes,  nor  in  telegrams  did  she  disclose 
anything  of  her  doings,  except  that  she  was  well  and 
enjoying  herself. 

So  time  rolled  on;  we  came  to  the  month  of  June 
— and  to  the  Flower  Show.  The  great  annual  festivity 
of  the  Catsford  Horticultural  and  Arboricultural  As- 
sociation had  always,  of  recent  years,  been  held  in 


AN    UNPOPULAR    MAN  51 

the  grounds  of  Breysgate  Priory,  and  at  the  Mayor's 
request  (Councillor  Bindlecom.be  was  also  President 
of  the  Association)  I  had  obtained  Miss  Driver's  con- 
sent to  the  continuance  of  this  good  custom.  In 
Jenny's  absence  the  Show  was  to  be  opened  by  Lady 
Sarah  Lacey.  I  have  mentioned  that  no  open  rup- 
ture had  taken  place  between  Fillingford  and  Breys- 
gate — there  was  only  a  very  chilly  feeling.  Lady 
Sarah  came,  with  her  brother  Lord  Fillingford  and 
his  son.  Sir  John  and  Lady  Aspenick  from  Overing- 
ton  Grange,  the  Dormers  from  Hingston,  Bertram 
Ware — our  M.P. — from  Oxley  Lodge,  and  many 
others — in  fact  all  one  side  of  the  county — graced 
the  occasion,  mingled  affably  with  the  elect  of  Cats- 
ford,  and  made  themselves  distantly  agreeable  to  the 
non-elect.  (This  statement  does  not,  for  obvious 
reasons,  apply  in  all  its  exactitude  to  the  M.P.  If 
the  bulk  of  the  male  guests  were  not  elect,  they  were 
electors.)  Everybody  was  hospitably  entertained,  but 
there  was  a  Special  Table,  where,  in  years  gone  by, 
Mr.  Driver  himself  had  welcomed  the  most  distin- 
guished guests.  His  death  and  his  daughter's  ab- 
sence— I  fear  I  must  add,  Cartmell's  also  (he  would 
have  taken  place  of  me,  I  think) — elevated  me  to 
this  august  position.  In  fact  I  had  to  play  host,  and 
so  came  for  the  first  time  into  social  relations  with 
our  august  neighbors.  I  was  not  without  alarm. 

Lady  Sarah  questioned  me  about  Jenny  with  polite 
but  hostile  curiosity.  Her  inquiries  contrived  to  sug- 
gest that,  with  such  a  father  and  such  a  childhood, 
it  would  be  wonderful  if  Miss  Driver  had  really  turned 
out  as  well  as  Lady  Sarah  hoped.   I  was  not  sur- 


52  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

prised,  and  set  the  attitude  down  to  a  natural  touch 
of  jealousy:  between  the  two  ladies  titular  preced- 
ence and  solid  power  would  very  likely  not  coincide. 
Lord  Fillingford  talked  to  the  Mayor — who  sat  be- 
tween him  and  me — with  a  defensively  dignified  re- 
serve. He  was  slightly  built,  and  walked  rather  stiffly; 
he  wore  small  whiskers,  and  inclined  to  baldness.  In- 
disputably a  gentleman,  he  seemed  to  be  afflicted 
with  an  unreasonable  idea  that  other  people  would 
not  remember  what  he  was;  a  good  man,  no  doubt, 
and  probably  a  sensible  one,  but  with  no  gift  for 
popularity.  His  handsome  son  easily  eclipsed  him 
there.  At  this  time  young  Lacey  was  bordering  on 
eighteen;  he  out-topped  his  father  in  stature  as  in 
grace.  He  was  a  singularly  attractive  boy  with  a 
hearty  gayety,  a  flow  of  talk,  and  an  engaging  con- 
viction that  everybody  wanted  to  listen.  Childless 
old  Mrs.  Dormer  was  delighted  to  listen,  to  feast  her 
eyes  on  his  comeliness,  and  to  pet  him  to  any  extent 
he  desired. 

As  a  whole  the  company  was  a  little  stiff,  and  the 
joints  of  conversation  rather  in  want  of  oiling,  until 
they  struck  on  that  most  fruitful  and  sympathetic  sub- 
ject— a  common  dislike.  The  victim  was  our  neigh- 
bor and  tenant  at  Hatcham  Ford,  Leonard  Octon. 
I  knew  him,  for  he  had  been  something  of  a  friend 
of  old  Mr.  Driver's,  and  had  been  accorded  free  leave 
to  walk  as  he  pleased  in  the  park;  I  had  understood 
— and  could  well  understand — that  he  was  not  gen- 
erally liked,  but  never  before  had  I  realized  the  sum 
of  his  enormities.  He  had,  it  seemed,  offended  every- 
body. Charitable  young  Lacey  did  indeed  qualify  the 


AN    UNPOPULAR    MAN  53 

assertion  that  he  was  a  "  bounder  "  by  the  admission 
that  he  was  afraid  of  nobody  and  could  shoot.  All 
the  other  voices  spoke  utter  condemnation.  He  had 
got  at  odds  with  town,  county,  and  church.  His  opin- 
ions were  considered  detestable,  his  manners  aggres- 
sive. On  various  occasions  of  controversy  he  had 
pointed  out  to  the  Rector  of  Catsford  that  the  pulpit 
was  not  of  necessity  a  well  of  truth,  to  the  Mayor 
that  a  gilt  chain  round  his  neck  had  no  effect  on 
the  stuff  inside  a  man's  head,  to  Sir  John  Aspenick 
that  one  might  understand  horses  and  fail  to  under- 
stand anything  else,  to  a  large  political  meeting  that 
of  all  laws  mob-law  was  the  worst,  to  Lord  Filling- 
ford  that  the  rule  of  intelligence  (to  which  Octon 
wished  to  revert)  was  no  more  the  rule  of  country 
gentlemen  than  of  their  gardeners — perhaps  not  so 
much — and  so  on.  These  outrages  were  not  narrated 
by  the  victims  of  them:  they  were  recalled  by  sym- 
pathetic questions  and  reminders,  each  man  tickling 
the  other's  wound.  It  could  not  be  denied  that  they 
made  up  a  sad  catalogue  of  social  crimes. 

"  The  fellow  may  think  what  he  likes,  but  he 
needn't  tread  on  all  our  toes,"  Sir  John  complained. 

"A  vulgar  man!"  observed  Lady  Sarah  with  an 
acid  finality. 

Here,  somewhat  to  my  surprise,  Fillingford  op- 
posed. He  was  a  dry  man,  but  a  just  one,  and  not 
even  against  an  enemy  should  more  than  truth  be 
said. 

'  No,  I  don't  think  he's  that.  His  incivility  is  ag- 
gressive, even  rough  sometimes,  but  I  shouldn't  call 
it  vulgar.  I  don't  know  what  you  think,  Mr.  Mayor, 


54  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

but  it  seems  to  me  that  vulgarity  can  hardly  exist 
without  either  affectation  in  the  man  himself  or  cring- 
ing to  others.  Now  Octon  isn't  affected  and  he  never 
cringes." 

Bindlecombe  was  a  sensible  man,  and  himself — if 
Fillingford's  definition  stood — not  vulgar. 

"  You  know  better  than  I  do,  Lord  Fillingford," 
he  said.  "  But  I  should  call  him  a  gentleman  spoiled 
— and  perhaps  that's  a  bit  different." 

"  Meant  for  a  gentleman,  perhaps? "  suggested 
Lady  Aspenick,  a  pretty  thin  woman  of  five-and- 
thirty,  who  looked  studious  and  wore  double  glasses, 
yet  was  a  mighty  horsewoman  and  whip  withal. 

I  liked  her  suggestion.  "  Really,  I  believe  that's 
about  it,"  I  made  bold  to  remark.  "  He  is  meant  for 
a  gentleman,  but  he's  rather  perverse  about  it." 

Lady  Sarah  looked  at  me  with  just  an  involuntary 
touch  of  surprise.  I  do  not  think  that,  in  the  bottom 
of  her  heart,  she  expected  me  to  speak — unless,  of 
course,  spoken  to. 

"  I  intensely  dislike  both  his  manners  and  his  opin- 
ions— and  what  I  hear  of  his  character,"  she  observed. 

"  I  mean,"  Lady  Aspenick  pursued,  "  that  he's 
been  to  so  many  queer  places,  and  must  have  seen 
such  queer  things " 

"  And  done  'em,  if  you  ask  my  opinion,"  interposed 
her  husband. 

"  That  he  may  have  got — what?  Rusty?  Well, 
something  like  that.  I  mean — forgotten  how  to  treat 
people.  He  seems  to  put  everybody  down  as  an  enemy 
at  first  sight!  Well,  I'm  irritable  myself!  " 

Bertram  Ware  joined  in  for  the  first  time.  "  At  the 


AN    UNPOPULAR    MAN  55 

clubs  they  say  he's  really  a  slave-driver  in  Central 
Africa,  and  comes  over  here  when  the  scent  gets  too 
hot  after  him." 

"  Really,"  said  Lady  Sarah,  "  it  sounds  exceedingly 
likely.  But  if  he  teaches  his  slaves  to  copy  his  man- 
ners, they'll  get  some  good  floggings." 

"  That's  what  the  fellow  wants  himself,"  growled 
unappeasable  Sir  John. 

"  You  take  it  on,  Johnny,"  counseled  young  Lacey. 
"  He's  only  a  foot  taller  and  four  stone  heavier  than 
you  are.  You  take  it  on!  It'd  be  a  very  sporting 
event." 

This  extract — it  is  no  more — from  our  conversa- 
tion will  show  that  it  was  going  on  swimmingly.  In 
the  pursuit  of  a  common  prey  we  were  developing  a 
sense  of  comradeship  which  leveled  barriers  and  put 
us  at  our  ease  with  one  another.  No  doubt  our  nascent 
cordiality  would  have  sprung  to  fuller  life — but  it 
suffered  a  sudden  check. 

'  Well,  how  have  you  all  got  on  without  me?  "  said 
a  voice  behind  my  chair. 

I  turned  round  with  a  start.  The  man  himself  stood 
there,  his  great  height  and  breadth  overshadowing 
me.  His  face  was  bronzed  under  his  thick  black  hair; 
his  mouth  wore  a  wicked  smile  as  his  keen  eyes 
ranged  round  the  embarrassed  table.  He  had  heard 
the  last  part  of  Lacey 's  joking  challenge  to  Aspenick. 
'  What's  Sir  John  Aspenick  got  to  take  on  ?  What's 
the  event?  " 

The  general  embarrassment  grew  no  less — but  then 
it  had  never  existed  in  young  Lacey.  He  raised  his 
fearless  fresh  blue  eyes  to  the  big  man. 


56  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  To  give  you  a  thrashing,"  he  said. 

"  Ah,"  said  Octon,  "  I'm  too  old.  I'm  not  like 
you."  Lacey  flushed  suddenly.  "  And  perhaps  I'm  a 
bit  too  big — and  you're  hardly  that  yet,  are  you?  ': 

Perhaps  he  was  too  big!  I  noticed  again  his  won- 
derful hands.  They  were  large  beyond  reasonable 
limits  of  size,  but  full  of  muscle — no  fat.  They  were 
restless  too — always  moving  as  if  they  wanted  to  be 
at  work;  if  the  work  were  to  strangle  a  bull,  I  could 
imagine  their  being  well  pleased.  He  might  need  a 
thrashing — but,  sturdy  as  the  sons  of  Catsford  were, 
there  was  none  in  the  park  that  day  who  could  have 
given  him  one. 

Young  Lacey  was  very  red.  I  was  a  little  uneasy  as 
to  what  he  would  say  or  do;  Fillingford  saved  the 
situation.  He  stood  up  and  offered  his  hand  to  Octon, 
saying,  "  We're  always  glad  to  welcome  a  neighbor 
safely  back.  I  hope  your  trip  was  prosperous?  ': 

It  was  the  right  thing  wrongly  said — at  least,  in- 
adequately said.  It  was  civil,  not  cordial.  They  made 
a  contrast,  these  men.  Fillingford  was  too  negative, 
Octon  too  positive.  One  defended  where  none  at- 
tacked, the  other  attacked  where  no  offense  had  been 
given.  Unnecessary  reserve  against  uncalled-for  ag- 
gression! Fillingford  was  not  popular — Octon  was 
hated.  Octon  did  not  mind  the  hatred — did  Filling- 
ford feel  the  lack  of  liking?  His  reserve  baffled  me: 
I  could  not  tell.  With  all  Octon's  faults,  friendship 
with  him  seemed  easier — and  more  attractive.  The 
path  might  be  rough — but  the  gate  was  not  locked. 

"  Sure,  Mr.  Austin,  it's  time  for  the  prizes?  "  said 
Ladv  Sarah. 


AN    UNPOPULAR    MAN  57 

It  was  not  time,  but  I  hastily  said  that  it  was,  and 
with  some  relief  escorted  her  to  the  platform.  The 
rest  followed,  after,  I  suppose,  a  formal  greeting  to 
the  unwelcome  Prodigal;  he  himself  did  not  come 
with  us. 

When  Lady  Sarah  had  distributed  the  prizes,  I 
made  a  little  speech  on  my  chief's  behalf — a  speech 
of  welcome  to  county  and  to  town.  Fillingford  replied 
first,  his  speech  was  like  himself — proper,  cold,  com- 
posed. Then  Bindlecombe  got  up,  mopping  his  fore- 
head— the  Mayor  was  apt  to  get  hot — but  making 
no  mean  appearance  with  his  British  solidity  of  figure, 
his  shrewd  face,  and  his  sturdy  respect  for  the  office 
he  exercised  by  the  will  of  his  fellow-citizens. 

"  My  lords,  ladies,  and  gentlemen — as  Mayor  of 
Catsford  I  have  just  one  word  to  say  on  behalf  of 
the  borough.  We  thank  the  generous  lady  who  has 
welcomed  us  here  to-day.  We  look  forward  to  wel- 
coming her  when  she's  ready  for  us.  All  Catsford 
men  are  proud  of  Nicholas  Driver.  He  did  a  great 
deal  for  us — maybe  we  did  something  for  him.  He 
wasn't  a  man  of  words,  but  he  was  proud  of  the 
borough  as  the  borough  was  proud  of  him.  From  what 
I  hear,  I  think  we  shall  be  proud  of  Miss  Driver,  too 
— and  I  hope  she'll  be  proud  of  the  borough  as  her 
father  was  before  her.  We  wish  her  long  life  and  pros- 
perity." 

Bravo,  Bindlecombe!  But  Lady  Sarah  looked  aston- 
ishingly sour.  There  was  something  almost  feudal  in 
the  relationship  which  the  Mayor's  words  suggested. 
Jenny  as  Overlord  of  Catsford  would  not  be  to  Lady 
Sarah's  liking. 


58  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

I  got  rid  of  them;  I  beg  pardon — they  civilly  dis- 
missed me.  Only  young  Lacey  had  for  me  a  word  of 
more  than  formality.  He  did  me  the  honor  to  ask 
my  opinion — as  from  one  gentleman  to  another. 

'  I  say,  do  you  think  Octon  had  a  right  to  say 
that?" 

"  The  retort  was  justifiable — strictly." 

"  He  need  hardly " 

"  No,  he  needn't." 

"  Well,  good-by,  Mr.  Austin.  I  say — I'd  like  to 
come  and  see  you.  Are  you  ever  at  home  in  the  even- 
ings? " 

"  Always  just  now.  I  should  be  delighted  to  see 
you." 

"  Evenings  at  the  Manor  aren't  very  lively,"  he  re- 
marked ingenuously.  "  And  I've  left  school  for  good, 
you  know." 

The  last  words  seemed  to  refer — distantly — to 
Leonard  Octon.  Without  returning  to  that  disturb- 
ing subject  I  repeated  my  invitation  and  then,  com- 
paratively free  from  my  responsibilities,  repaired 
alone  to  the  terrace. 

Octon  was  still  there — extended  on  three  chairs, 
smoking  and  drinking  a  whisky  and  soda.  I  asked 
him  about  his  travels — he  was  just  back  from  the  re- 
cesses of  Africa  (if  there  are,  truly,  any  recesses  left) 
— but  gained  small  satisfaction.  His  predominant  in- 
tellectual interest  was — insects!  He  would  hunt  a 
beetle  from  latitude  to  latitude,  and  by  no  means  de- 
spised the  pursuit  of  a  flea.  My  interest  in  the  study 
of  religion  assorted  ill  with  this:  when  I  questioned 
on  my  subject,  he  replied  on  his.  All  other  incidents 


AN    UNPOPULAR    MAN  59 

of  his  journeys  he  passed  over,  both  in  talk  and  in 
writing  (he  had  written  two  books  eminent  in  their 
own  line),  with  a  brevity  thoroughly  Csesarean.  "  Hav- 
ing taken  the  city  and  killed  the  citizens  " — Caesar 
invaded  another  tribe! — That  was  the  style.  Only 
Octon's  tribes  were  insects,  Caesar's  patriots.  It  was, 
however,  rumored — as  Bertram  Ware  had  hinted  in  a 
jocose  form — that  Octon's  summaries  were,  some- 
times and  in  their  degree,  as  eloquent  as  Caesar's  own. 

"  Hang  my  journeys!  "  he  said,  as  I  put  one  more 
of  my  futile  questions.  "  I  got  six  bugs — one  indis- 
putably new.  But  I  didn't  hurry  up  here — I  only  got 
home  this  morning — to  talk  about  that.  I  hurried  up 
here,  Austin " 

"To  annoy  your  neighbors — knowing  they  were 
assembled  here?  " 

"  That  was  a  side-show,"  he  assured  me.  "  Though 
it  was  entertaining  enough.  And,  after  all,  young 
Lacey  began  on  me!  No — I  came  to  bring  you  news 
of  your  liege  lady.  I've  been  in  Paris,  too,  Austin." 

"  And  you  met  her?  " 

"  I  met  her  often — with  her  cat." 

"Miss  Chatters?" 

"  Precisely.  And  sometimes  without  her  cat.  How 
do  you  like  the  change  from  old  Driver?" 

"  I  hold  no  such  position,  either  in  county  or  bor- 
ough, as  need  tempt  you — to  say  nothing  of  entitling 
you — to  ask  impertinent  questions,  Octon." 

He  chuckled  out  a  deep  rumbling  laugh  of  amuse- 
ment. "Good!"  he  said.  "Well-turned — almost 
witty!  Austin,  I've  my  own  pursuits — but  I'm  inclined 
to  wish  I  had  your  position." 


60  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  You're  very  flattering — but  my  position  is  that  of 
an  employe — at  a  salary  which  would  hardly  com- 
mand your  services." 

"  You  can  be  eyes  and  ears  and  hands  to  her.  If  I 
had  your  position,  I'd  " — one  of  his  great  hands  rose 
suddenly  into  the  air — "  crunch  up  this  neighbor- 
hood. With  her  resources  she  could  get  all  the 
power."  His  hand  fell  again,  and  he  removed  his  body 
from  two  of  the  three  chairs,  shifting  himself  with 
easy  indolent  strength.  "  Then  you'd  have  it  all  in 
your  own  control." 

"  She'd  have  it  in  her  own  control,  you  must 
mean,"  said  I. 

"Come,  you're  a  man!"  he  mocked  me.  But  he 
was  looking  at  me  closely,  too — and  rather  inquisi- 
tively, I  thought. 

"  Since  you've  met  her  often,  I  thought  you  might 
understand  better  than  that."  To  answer  him  in  his 
own  coin,  I  infused  into  my  tone  a  contempt  which 
I  hoped  would  annoy  him. 

He  was  not  annoyed;  he  was  amused.  In  the  in- 
solence of  his  strength  he  mocked  at  me — at  Jenny 
through  me — at  me  through  Jenny.  Yet,  pervading 
it  all,  there  was  revealed  an  interest — a  curiosity — 
about  her  that  agreed  ill  with  his  assumed  contemptu- 
ousness. 

"  She's  given  you  her  idea  of  herself  — -  and 
you've  absorbed  it.  She  thinks  she's  another  Nick 
Driver — and  you're  sure  of  it!  It's  all  flim-flam, 
Austin." 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,"  said  I  meekly.  "  It's  no 
affair  of  mine  what  you  choose  to  think." 


AN    UNPOPULAR    MAN  61 

"  Well,  that's  a  more  liberal  sentiment  than  one 
generally  hears  in  this  neighborhood." 

He  rose  and  stretched  himself,  clenching  his  big 
fists  in  the  air  over  his  head.  "  At  any  rate  she's  told 
me  I  may  take  my  walks  about  here  as  usual.  I'll 
drop  in  and  have  a  pipe  with  you  some  day." 

Another  guest  proposed  himself!  I  hoped  that  the 
company  might  always  prove  harmonious. 

"  As  for  Chat,"  he  went  on,  "  I  don't  want  to  boast 
of  my  conquests — but  she's  mine." 

"  My  congratulations  are  untouched  by  envy." 

"  You  may  live  to  change  your  mind  about  that. 
Anyhow  I  hold  her  in  my  hand." 

The  truth  about  him  was  that,  as  he  loved  his 
strength,  so,  and  no  less,  he  loved  the  display  of  it. 
A  common,  doubtless  not  the  highest,  characteristic 
of  the  strong!  Display  is  apt  to  pass  into  boast.  He 
was  not*  at  all  loath  to  hint  to  me — to  force  me  to 
guess — that  his  encounters  in  Paris  had  set  him 
thinking.  (If  they  had  set  him  feeling,  he  said  nothing 
about  that.)  Hence — as  I  reasoned  it — he  went  on, 
with  a  trifle  more  than  his  usual  impudence,  "  Your 
goose  will  be  cooked  when  she  marries,  though!  " 

After  all,  his  impudence  was  good-humored.  I  re- 
torted in  kind.  "  Perhaps  the  husband  won't  let  you 
walk  in  the  park  either!" 

'  If  Fillingford  were  half  a  man — Lord,  what  a 
chance!  " 

(  You  gossip  as  badly  as  the  women  themselves. 
Why  not  say  young  Lacey  at  once?  " 

'  The  boy?  I'd  lay  him  over  my  knee — at  the  first 
word  of  it." 


62  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  He'd  stab  you  under  the  fifth  rib  as  you  did  it." 

The  big  man  laughed.  "  Then  my  one  would  be 
worse  than  his  sound  dozen!  And  what  you  say  isn't 
at  all  impossible.  He's  a  fine  boy,  that!  After  all, 
though,  he's  inherited  his  courage.  The  father's  no 
coward,  either." 

We  had  become  engrossed  in  our  interchange  of 
shots — hostile,  friendly,  or  random.  One  speaks  some- 
times just  for  the  repartee,  especially  when  no  more 
than  feeling  after  the  interpretation  of  a  man. 

Moreover  Loft's  approach  was  always  noiseless. 
On  Octon's  last  words,  he  was  by  my  side. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  Miss  Driver  has  telephoned 
from  London  to  say  that  she'll  be  down  to-morrow 
and  glad  to  see  you  at  lunch.  And  I  was  to  say,  sir, 
would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  send  word  to  Mr.  Octon 
that  she  would  be  very  pleased  if  he  would  come,  too, 
if  his  engagements  permitted." 

"  Oh — yes — very  good,  Loft.  This  is  Mr.  Octon." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Loft.  The  tone  was  noncommittal. 
He  knew  Octon — but  declared  no  opinion. 

I  was  taken  aback,  for  I  had  received  no  word  of 
her  coming;  I  had  been  led  not  to  expect  her  for  four 
or  five  weeks.  Octon's  eye  caught  mine. 

"  Changed  her  mind  and  come  back  sooner?  Well, 
I  did  just  the  same  myself." 

By  themselves  the  words  were  nothing.  In  connec- 
tion with  our  little  duel — backed  by  the  man's  broad 
smile  and  the  forceful  assertion  of  his  personality — 
they  amounted  to  a  yet  plainer  boast — "  I've  come — 
and  I  thought  she  would."  That  is  too  plain  for 
speech — even  for  Octon's  ill-restrained  tongue — but 


AN    UNPOPULAR    MAN  63 

not  too  plain  for  his  bearing.  But  then  I  doubted 
whether  his  bearing  were  toward  facts  or  merely 
toward  me — were  proof  of  force  or  effort  after  effect. 

"  Clearly  Miss  Chatters  can't  keep  away  from 
you!  "  I  said. 

"  Clearly  we're  going  to  have  a  more  amusing  time 
than  we'd  been  hoping,"  he  answered  and,  with  a 
casual  and  abrupt  "  Good-by,"  turned  on  his  heel, 
taking  out  another  great  cigar  as  he  went. 

Perhaps  we  were — if  amusing  should  prove  to  be 
the  right  word  about  it.  So  ran  my  instinct — with  no 
express  reason  to  be  given  for  it.  Why  should  not 
Jenny  come  home?  Why  should  Octon's  coming  have 
anything  to  do  with  it?  In  truth  I  was  affected,  I 
was  half  dominated  for  the  moment,  by  his  confidence 
and  his  force.  I  had  taken  the  impression  he  wanted 
to  give — just  as  he  accused  me  of  taking  the  impres- 
sion that  Jenny  sought  to  give.  So  I  told  myself 
consolingly.  But  I  could  not  help  remembering  that 
in  those  countries  which  he  frequented,  where  he  got 
his  insects  and  very  probably  his  ideas,  men  were  said 
as  often  to  win  or  lose — to  live  or  die — by  the  im- 
pression they  imparted  to  friends,  foes,  and  rivals 
as  by  the  actual  deeds  they  did.  I  could  not  judge 
how  far  that  was  true — but  that  or  something  like 
it  was  surely  what  they  called  prestige?  If  a  man 
created  prestige,  you  did  not  even  try  to  oppose  him. 
Nay,  you  hastened  to  range  yourself  on  his  side — 
and  your  real  little  power  went  to  swell  his  asserted 
big  power — his  power  big  in  assertion  but  in  fact, 
as  against  the  present  foe,  still  unproved.  Had  the 
prestige  been  brought  to  bear  on  Chat — so  that  she 


64  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

was  wholly  his?  Was  it  being  brandished  before  my 
eyes,  to  gain  me  also — for  what  I  was  worth? 

After  all,  it  was  flattering  of  him  to  think  that  I 
mattered.  I  mattered  so  very  little.  If  he  were  minded 
to  impress,  if  he  were  ready  to  fight,  his  display  and 
his  battle  must  be  against  another  foe — or — if  the 
evidence  of  that  talk  at  the  Flower  Show  went  for 
anything — against  several.  If  an  attack  on  Breysgate 
Priory  were  really  in  his  mind,  he  would  find  no  ally 
— outside  its  walls. 


CHAPTER   V 


RAPIER    AND    CLUB 


A  NY  account  of  Jenny  Driver's  doings  is  in 
I  \  danger  of  seeming  to  progress  by  jumps 
X  \.  and  jerks,  and  thereby  of  contradicting  the 
truth  about  its  subject.  Cartmell,  her  principal  man 
of  business,  scoffed  at  the  idea  that  Jenny  was  impul- 
sive at  all;  after  six  months'  experience  of  her  he 
said  that  he  had  never  met  a  cooler,  saner,  more 
cautious  judgment.  That  this  was  true  of  her  in  busi- 
ness matters  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt,  but  (I  have 
noted  this  distinction  already)  if  the  remark  is  to  be 
extended  to  her  personal  affairs  it  needs  qualification 
— yet  without  admitting  of  contradiction.  There  she 
was  undoubtedly  impetuous  and  impulsive  on  occa- 
sion; a  certain  course  would  appeal  to  her  fancy,  and 
she  made  for  it  headlong,  regardless,  or  seeming 
regardless,  of  its  risks.  But  even  here,  though  the 
impulses  prevailed  on  her  suddenly  in  the  end,  they 
were  long  in  coming  to  a  head,  long  in  achieving 
mastery,  and  preceded  by  protracted  periods  either 
of  inaction  or  of  action  so  wary  and  tentative  as  not 
to  commit  her  in  any  serious  degree.  She  would  ad- 
vance toward  the  object,  then  retreat  from  it,  then 
stand  still  and  look  at  it,  then  walk  round  and  regard 
it  from  another  point  of  view.  Next  she  was  apt  to 

65 


66  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

turn  her  back  on  it  and  become,  for  a  time,  engross- 
ingly  interested  in  something  else;  it  seemed  essential 
to  her  ease  of  mind  that  there  should  be  an  alter- 
native possible  and  a  line  of  retreat  open.  All  this 
circumspection  and  deliberation — or,  if  you  like,  this 
dawdling  and  shilly-shallying  (for  opinions  of  Jenny 
have  differed  very  widely  on  this  and  on  other  mat- 
ters)— had  to  happen  before  the  rapid  and  imperious 
impulse  came  to  set  a  limit  to  them;  even  then  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  impulse  left  her  quite  unmind- 
ful of  the  line  of  retreat. 

These  characteristics  of  hers  were  exhibited  in  her 
treatment  of  the  question  of  the  Institute.  Although 
this  was  a  public  matter,  it  was  (or  she  made  it) 
closely  connected  with  certain  private  affairs  which 
inevitably  had  a  profound  interest  for  all  of  us  who 
surrounded  her.  My  own  belief  is  that  a  lift  of  Lady 
Sarah  Lacey's  brows  started  the  Institute.  When  she 
called — this  necessary  courtesy  was  punctually  forth- 
coming from  the  Manor  to  the  Priory — she  heard 
from  Jenny  about  the  proposed  Driver  Memorial 
Hall,  how  it  was  to  look,  where  it  was  to  be,  and  so 
forth.  She  put  a  question  as  to  funds;  Jenny  owned 
to  the  ten  thousand  pounds.  All  Lady  Sarah  said  was, 
"  Do  you  feel  called  upon  to  do  as  much  as  that?  ': 
But  she  also  lifted  her  brows — conveying  thereby  (as 
Jenny  confidently  declared)  that  Miss  Driver  was 
taking  an  exaggerated  view  of  her  father's  impor- 
tance and  of  her  own,  and  was  assuming  a  position 
toward  the  borough  of  Catsford  which  properly  be- 
longed to  her  betters  (perhaps  Lady  Sarah  was  recol- 
lecting the  Mayor's  feudal  speech!)  At  any  rate  from 


RAPIER    AND    CLUB  67 

that  day  forward  Jenny  began  to  hint  at  bigger 
things.  The  Memorial  Hall  by  itself  no  longer  suf- 
ficed. She  made  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Bindlecombe, 
and  he  often  came  up  to  Breysgate.  Where  his  be- 
loved borough  was  concerned,  Bindlecombe  was 
openly  and  avowedly  unscrupulous;  he  meant  to  get 
all  he  could  out  of  Miss  Driver,  and  made  no  con- 
cealment about  it.  Jenny  delighted  in  this  attitude; 
it  gave  her  endless  opportunities  of  encouraging  and 
discouraging,  of  setting  up  and  putting  down,  the 
hopes  of  Bindlecombe.  Between  them  they  elaborated 
the  idea — Jenny  was  great  at  elaborating  it,  but  care- 
ful to  insist  that  it  was  no  more  than  an  idea — of 
extending  the  Memorial  Hall  into  a  great  Institute, 
which  was  to  include  a  memorial  hall  but  to  comprise 
much  besides.  It  was  to  be  a  Driver  Literary,  Scien- 
tific, and  Technical  Institute  on  the  handsomest  scale. 
Bindlecombes'  patriotic  and  sanguine  mind  hardly 
hesitated  to  see  in  it  the  nucleus  of  a  future  Univer- 
sity for  the  City  of  Catsford.  (Catsford  was  in  the 
future  to  be  promoted  to  be  a  "  city,"  though  I  did 
not  see  how  Jenny  could  have  anything  to  do  with 
that!)  The  notion  of  this  great  Driver  Institute 
pleased  Jenny  immensely.  How  high  it  would  lift 
Lady  Sarah's  eyebrows!  It  made  Cartmell  apprehen- 
sive about  the  expense — and  she  liked  to  tease  him 
by  suggested  extravagance.  Finally,  it  would,  she  de- 
clared, provide  me  with  a  splendid  post — as  librarian, 
or  principal,  or  something — which  would  give  me  a 
worthier  scope  for  my  abilities  and  yet  (Jenny  looked 
at  me  almost  tenderly)  let  me  stay  in  my  dear  little 
home — near  Breysgate — "  and  near  me,  Mr.  Austin." 


68  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

She  played  with  the  idea — as  she  played  with  us. 
Some  gossip  about  it  began  to  trickle  through  Cats- 
ford.  There  was  much  interest,  and  Jenny  became 
quite  a  heroine.  Meanwhile  plans  for  the  poor  old  Me- 
morial Hall  were  suspended. 

According  to  Bindlecombe  the  only  possible  site 
for  the  visible  realization  of  this  splendid  idea — the 
only  site  which  the  congested  condition  of  the  center 
of  the  borough  allowed,  and  also  the  only  one  worthy 
of  the  great  Institute — was  the  garden  and  grounds  of 
Hatcham  Ford.  The  beautiful  old  house  itself  was 
to  be  preserved  as  the  center  of  an  imposing  group 
of  handsome  buildings;  the  old  gardens  need  not 
be  materially  spoiled — so  Bindlecombe  unplausibly 
maintained.  The  flavor  of  antiquity  and  aristocracy 
thus  imparted  to  the  Institute  would,  Bindlecombe 
declared,  give  it  a  charm  and  a  dignity  beyond  those 
possessed  by  any  other  Institute  the  world  over.  I  was 
there  when  he  first  made  this  suggestion  to  Jenny. 
She  looked  at  him  in  silence,  smiled,  and  glanced 
quickly  at  me.  The  look,  though  quick,  was  audacious 
— under  the  circumstances. 

"  But  what  will  Mr.  Octon  say  to  that?  " 

Bindlecombe  deferentially  hinted  that  he  under- 
stood that  Mr.  Octon's  lease  of  Hatcham  Ford  ex- 
pired, or  could  be  broken,  in  two  or  three  years.  He 
understood — perhaps  he  was  wrong — that  Mr.  Driver 
usually  reserved  a  power  to  break  leases  at  the  end 
of  seven  years?  Mr.  Cartmell  would,  of  course,  know 
all  about  that. 

"  Oh,  if  that's  so,"  said  Jenny,  "  of  course  it  would 
be  quite  simple.  Wouldn't  it,  Mr.  Austin?  " 


RAPIER    AND    CLUB  69 

"  As  simple  as  drawing  a  badger,"  I  replied — and 
Bindlecombe  looked  surprised  to  hear  such  a  sporting 
simile  pass  my  lips.  It  was  by  no  means  a  bad  one, 
though,  and  Jenny  rewarded  it  with  a  merry  little 
nod. 

At  this  point,  then,  her  public  project  touched  her 
private  relations — and  her  relations  with  Octon  had 
been  close  ever  since  her  return  from  Paris.  He  had 
been  a  constant  visitor  at  Breysgate,  and  my  belief 
was  that  within  a  very  few  weeks  of  her  arrival  he 
had  made  a  direct  attack — had  confronted  her  with 
a  downright  proposal — demand  is  a  word  which  suits 
his  method  better — for  her  hand.  I  did  not  think  that 
she  had  refused,  I  was  sure  that  she  had  not  accepted. 
She  was  fond  of  referring,  in  his  presence,  to  the  re- 
cent date  of  her  father's  death,  to  her  own  immersion 
in  business,  to  the  "  strangeness  "  of  her  new  life  and 
the  necessity  of  "  finding  her  feet  "  before  doing 
much.  These  references — rather  pathetic  and  almost 
apologetic — Octon  would  receive  with  a  frown  of 
impatience — sometimes  even  of  incredulity;  but  he 
did  not  make  them  an  occasion  of  quarrel.  He  con- 
tinued to  come  constantly  to  the  Priory — certainly 
three  or  four  times  a  week.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
he  was,  in  his  way,  very  much  in  love  with  Jenny.  It 
was  an  overbearing  sort  of  way — but  it  had  two  great 
merits:  it  was  resolute  and  it  was  disinterested.  He 
was  quite  clear  that  he  wanted  her;  it  was  quite  clear 
that  he  did  not  care  about  her  money,  though  he 
might  envy  her  power.  And  if  he  tried  to  dominate 
her,  he  had  to  submit  to  constant  proofs  of  her  domi- 
nation also.  She  could,  and  did,  make  him  furiously 


70  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

angry;  he  was  often  undisguisedly  impatient  of  her 
coynesses  and  her  hesitations:  but  he  could  not  leave 
her  nor  the  hopes  he  had  of  her.  And  she,  on  her 
side,  could  not — at  least  did  not — send  him  away. 
For  that  matter  she  never  liked  sending  anybody 
away — not  even  Powers;  it  seemed  to  make  her  king- 
dom less  by  one — a  change  in  quite  the  wrong  direc- 
tion. Octon  would  have  been  a  great  loss,  for  he 
had,  without  doubt,  a  strong,  and  an  increasingly 
strong,  attraction  for  her.  She  liked  at  least  to  play 
at  being  subjugated  by  his  masculine  force;  she  did, 
in  fact,  to  a  great  extent  approve  and  admire  his  semi- 
barbaric  way  (for  her  often  mitigated  by  a  humor 
which  he  kept  for  the  people  he  liked)  of  speaking 
of  and  dealing  with  women.  Down  in  her  heart  she 
thought  that  attitude  rather  the  right  thing  in  a  man, 
and  liked  to  think  of  it  as  a  power  before  which  she 
might  yield.  At  the  theater  she  was  always  delighted 
when  the  rebellious  maiden  or  the  charming  spitfire 
of  a  wife,  at  last,  in  the  third  act,  hailed  the  hero 
as  her  "  master."  So  far  she  was  primitive  amidst  all 
her  subtlety.  But  to  Jenny's  mind  it  was  by  no  means 
the  third  act  yet;  even  the  plot  of  the  play  was  not 
laid  out  so  far  ahead  as  that.  If  this  masterful,  quick, 
assertive  way  of  wooing  were  proper  to  man,  woman 
had  her  weapons;  she  had  her  natural  weapons,  she 
had  the  weapons  a  civilized  state  of  society  gave 
her,  and  she  had  those  which  casual  chance  might 
add  to  her  arsenal.  Under  the  last  of  these  three  cate- 
gories fell  the  project  of  the  Driver  Institute,  to 
be  established  at  Mr.  Octon's  present  residence, 
Hatcham  Ford. 


RAPIER    AND    CLUB  71 

It  was  a  great  chance  for  Jenny.  Institutes  as  such, 
and  all  similar  works,  Octon  hated — why  educate  peo- 
ple who  ought  to  be  driven?  The  insolence  not  of  rank 
but  of  intellect  spoke  in  him  with  a  strong  voice.  Bin- 
dlecombe  he  hated,  and  it  was  mainly  Bindlecombe's 
idea.  Catsford  he  hated,  because  it  was  gradually  but 
surely  spreading  to  the  gates  of  his  beautiful  old 
house.  Deeper  than  this,  he  hated  being  under  any- 
body's power;  it  was  bitter  to  him  that,  when  his  mind 
was  to  stay,  anybody — whether  Jenny  or  another 
— should  be  able  to  tell  him  to  go.  Finally,  his  spe- 
cial position  toward  Jenny  made  the  mere  raising 
of  the  question  of  his  future  residence  a  rare  chance 
for  her — a  chance  of  teasing  and  vexing,  of  coaxing 
and  soothing,  or  of  artful  pretense  that  there  was  no 
underlying  question  at  all. 

She  told  him  about  the  project — it  was  nothing 
more,  she  was  careful  to  remark — after  dinner  one 
evening,  in  her  most  artless  manner. 

'  It's  a  perfect  idea — only  I  hope  you  wouldn't 
mind  turning  out?" 

He  had  listened  sullenly,  pulling  hard  at  his  cigar. 
Chat  was  watching  him  with  alarmed  eyes;  he  had 
cast  his  spell  on  Chat,  that  was  certain;  there  his 
boast  did  not  go  beyond  truth. 

'  Being  turned  out,  you  mean,  I  imagine!  I'd  never 
willingly  turn  out  to  make  room  for  any  such  non- 
sense. Of  all  the  humbugs " 

'■  It's  my  duty  to  do  something  for  the  town,"  she 
urged — very  grave. 

'  Let  them  do  their  work  by  day  and  drink  their 
beer  by  night.  Fancy  those  fellows  in  my  house!  " 


72  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  I'm  sorry  you  feel  like  that.  I  thought  you'd  be 
interested — and — and  I'd  try  to  find  you  a  house 
somewhere  else.  There  must  be  some  other  houses, 
Mr.  Austin?  " 

"  One  or  two  round  about,  I  fancy,"  said  I. 

"  Nice  little  ones — to  suit  a  single  man?  "  she 
asked,  her  bright  eyes  now  seeking,  now  eluding,  a 
meeting  with  his. 

"  I  suppose  I  can  choose  the  size  of  my  house  for 
myself,"  Octon  growled.  ".  I  don't  want  Austin's  ad- 
vice about  it." 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  poor  Mr.  Austin  who — who  spoke 
about  the  size  of  the  house."  A  sudden  thought 
seemed  to  strike  her.  "  You  might  stay  on  and  be 
something  in  the  Institute!  " 

"  I'd  burn  the  house  over  my  head  sooner." 

"  Burn  my  pretty  house!  Oh,  Mr.  Octon!  I  should 
be  so  hurt — and  you'd  be  sent  to  prison!  What  a 
lot  of  police  it  would  need  to  take  you  there!  " 

The  last  sentence  mollified  him — and  it  was  clever 
of  her  to  know  that  it  would.  He  had  his  primitive 
side,  too.  He  was  primitive  enough  to  love  a  compli- 
ment to  his  muscles. 

"  I'd  be  out  of  the  country  before  they  came — with 
you  under  my  arm,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh. 

"  That  would  be  very  forgiving — but  hardly  proper, 
would  it,  Chat?  Unless  we  were —  Oh,  but  what  non- 
sense! Why  don't  you  like  my  poor  Institute?'' 

He  relapsed  into  ill-humor,  and  it  developed  into 
downright  rudeness. 

"  It's  nothing  to  me  how  people  make  fools  of 
themselves,"  he  said. 


RAPIER    AND    CLUB  73 

Jenny  did  not  always  resent  his  rudeness.  But  she 
never  compromised  her  right  to  resent  it.  She  exer- 
cised the  right  now,  rising  with  instantaneous  dig- 
nity. "  It's  time  for  us  to  go,  Chat.  Mr.  Austin,  will 
you  kindly  look  after  Mr.  Octon's  comfort  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening?  "  She  swept  out,  Chat  pattering 
after  her  in  a  hen-like  flutter.  Octon  drank  off  his 
glass  of  wine  with  a  muttered  oath.  Excellent  as  the 
port  was,  it  seemed  to  do  him  no  good.  He  leaned 
over  to  me — perfectly  sober,  be  it  understood  (I 
never  saw  him  affected  by  liquor),  but  desperately 
savage.  "  I  won't  stand  that,"  he  said.  "  If  she  sticks 
to  that,  I'll  never  come  back  to  this  house  when  I've 
walked  out  of  it  to-night." 

I  was  learning  how  to  deal  with  his  tempests.  "  I 
shall  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  encountering  you 
elsewhere,"  I  observed  politely.  "  Meanwhile  I  have 
my  orders.  Pray  help  yourself  to  port." 

He  did  that,  but  at  the  same  moment  hurled  at 
me  the  order — "  Take  her  that  message." 

"  There's  pen  and  ink  behind  you,  Octon." 

Temper  is  a  terrible  master — and  needs  looking 
after  even  as  a  servant.  He  jumped  up,  wrote  some- 
thing— what  I  could  only  guess — and  rang  the  bell 
violently.  I  could  imagine  Jenny's  smile — I  did  not 
ring  like  that. 

'  Take  that  to  your  mistress,"  he  commanded. 
'  It's  the  address  she  wanted."  But  he  had  carefully 
closed  the  envelope,  and  probably  Loft  had  his  pri- 
vate opinion. 

We  sat  in  silence  till  the  answer  came.  "  Miss 
Driver  says  she  is  much  obliged,  sir,  for  the  address," 


74  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

said  Loft  as,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  he  introduced 
a  footman  with  coffee,  "  and  she  needn't  trouble  you 
any  more  in  the  matter — as  you  have  another  en- 
gagement to-night." 

Under  Loft's  eyes  he  had  pulled  himself  together; 
he  received  the  message  with  an  appearance  of  indif- 
ference which  quite  supported  the  idea  that  it  re- 
lated to  some  trifle  and  that  he  really  had  to  go  away 
early;  I  had  not  given  him  credit  for  such  a  power 
of  suddenly  regaining  self-control.  He  nodded,  and 
said  lightly  to  me,  "  Well,  since  Miss  Driver  is  so 
kind,  I'll  be  off  in  another  ten  minutes."  The  presence 
of  servants  must,  in  the  long  run,  create  a  great  deal 
of  good  manners. 

When  Loft  was  out  of  the  room  Octon  dropped  his 
disguise.  He  brought  his  big  hand  down  on  the  table 
with  a  slap,  saying,  "There's  an  end  of  it!': 

"  Why  shouldn't  she  build  an  Institute?  If  you  take 
a  lease  for  only  seven  years,  how  are  you  aggrieved 
by  getting  notice  to  quit  at  the  end  of  the  term?  ': 

"  Don't  argue  round  the  fringe  of  things.  Don't 
be  a  humbug,"  he  admonished  me,  scornfully  enough, 
yet  for  once,  as  I  fancied,  with  a  touch  of  gentleness 
and  liking.  "  You've  damned  sharp  eyes,  and  I've 
something  else  to  do  than  take  the  trouble  to  blind 
them." 

"  No  extraordinary  acuteness  of  vision  is  neces- 
sary," I  ventured  to  remark. 

He  rose  from  his  chair  with  a  heavy  sigh,  leaving 
his  coffee  and  brandy  untouched.  I  felt  inclined  to 
tell  him  that  in  all  likelihood  he  was  taking  the  mat- 
ter too  seriously:  he  was  assuming  finality — a  difficult 


RAPIER    AND    CLUB  75 

thing  to  assume  when  Jenny  was  in  the  case.  He 
came  to  me  and  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder. 
"  They  manage  'em  better  in  Africa,"  he  said  with 
a  sardonic  grin.  "  Of  course  I'd  no  business  to  say 
that  to  her — but  hadn't  she  been  trying  to  draw  me 
all  the  time?  She  does  it — then  she  makes  a  shindy! ' 
"  I'll  see  you  a  bit  on  your  way,"  I  said.  He  ac- 
cepted my  offer  by  slipping  his  hand  under  my  arm. 
I  opened  the  door  for  us  to  pass  out.  There  stood 
Chat  on  the  threshold.  Octon  regarded  her  with  an 
ill-subdued  impatience.  Chat  was  fluttering  still. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Octon,  she's — she's  so  angry!  Might  I 
— oh,  might  I  take  a  message  to  her  room?  She's 
gone  upstairs  and  forbidden  me  to  follow." 

"  Thank  you,  but  there's  no  message  to  take." 
"  If  you  would  just  say  something — — !  " 
"  There's  no  message  to  take."  Again  his  tone  was 
not  rough — it  was  moody,  almost  absent:  but,  as  he 
left  Chat  behind  in  her  useless  agitation,  he  leaned 
on  my  arm  very  heavily.  Though  I  counted  his  whole 
great  body  as  for  me  less  than  her  little  finger,  yet 
a  subtle  male  freemasonry  stirred  in  me.  He  had  be- 
haved very  badly — for  a  man  should  bear  a  pretty 
woman's  pin-pricks — yet  he  was  hard  hit;  all  against 
him  as  I  was,  I  knew  that  he  was  hard  hit.  Moreover, 
he  had  summed  up  Jenny's  procedure  pretty  ac- 
curately. 

We  put  on  our  coats — it  was  now  September — un- 
did the  big  door,  and  went  out,  down  the  steps,  into 
a  clear  frosty  night.  We  had  walked  many  yards  along 
the  drive  before  he  spoke.  At  last  he  said,  very 
quietly — 


76  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  You're  a  good  chap,  Austin,  and  I'm  sorry  I've 
made  a  row  to-night.  Yes,  I'm  sorry  for  that.  But 
whether  I'm  sorry  I've  been  kicked  out  or  not — well, 
that's  a  difficult  question.  My  temper — well,  some- 
times I'm  a  bit  afraid  of  it." 

'  Oh,  that's  nothing.  You've  both  got  tempers. 
You'll  make  it  up." 

He  spoke  with  a  calm  deliberation  unusual 
with  him.  "  I  don't  think  I'd  better,"  he  said.  "  I 
don't  quite  trust  myself:  I  might  do  something — 
queer." 

In  my  opinion  that  possibility  about  him  attracted 
Jenny;  but  it  needed  no  artificial  fostering,  and  I  held 
my  peace. 

There  were  electric  lights  at  intervals  down  the 
drive:  at  this  moment  I  could  see  his  face  plainly. 
I  thoroughly  agreed  with  what  he  said  and  under- 
stood his  judgment  of  himself.  But  it  was  hard  to  see 
him  look  like  that  about  it.  Suddenly — as  I  still 
looked — his  expression  changed.  A  look  of  appre- 
hension came  over  him — but  he  smiled  also,  and 
gripped  my  arm  tightly.  A  figure  walked  out  of  the 
darkness  into  the  light  of  the  lamp. 

I  recalled  how  I  had  found  her  sitting  by  my  hearth 
one  night — in  time  to  make  me  recall  my  resignation. 
Was  she  here  to  make  Octon  unsay  his  determina- 
tion? 

She  came  up  to  us  smiling — with  no  air  of  surprise, 
real  or  affected,  and  with  no  explanation  of  her  own 
presence. 

"Both  of  you!  What  luck!  I  didn't  think  you'd 
come  away  from  the  house  yet." 


RAPIER    AND    CLUB  77 

"  I've  come  away  from  the  house,  Miss  Driver," 
said  Octon — rather  grimly. 

"  In  fact  you've — '  walked  out  of  the  house  ' — ?  " 
asked  Jenny,  smiling.  The  dullest  ears  could  not  miss 
the  fact  that  she  was  quoting. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Octon  briefly,  leaving  the  next 
move  with  her.  She  had  no  hesitation  over  it. 

"  Let  not  the  sun  go  down  upon  your  wrath!  "  she 
cried  gayly.  "  The  sun  is  down,  but  the  moon  will  be 
up  soon,  and  if  you  won't  quarrel  any  more  I'll  keep 
you  company  for  a  little  bit  of  the  way."  She  turned 
to  me,  "  Do  you  mind  waiting  at  the  house  a  quarter 
of  an  hour?  I've  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Cartmell  that 
I  want  to  consult  you  about." 

Octon  had  not  replied  to  her  invitation  and  did  not 
now.  As  I  said,  "  All  right — I'll  smoke  a  pipe  outside 
and  wait  for  you,"  she  beckoned  lightly  and  merrily 
to  him.  After  an  almost  imperceptible  pause  he 
moved  slowly  after  her.  Gradually  their  figures  re- 
ceded from  the  area  of  lamplight  and  grew  dim  in 
the  darkness.  The  moon  peeped  over  the  hill  but  gave 
no  light  yet  by  which  they  could  be  seen. 

I  had  never  believed  in  the  permanence  of  that 
quarrel.  Though  it  was  a  strong  instance,  yet  it  was 
hardly  more  than  a  typical  instance  of  their  quarrels 
— of  the  constant  clashing  of  his  way  against  hers — 
of  the  play  between  her  rapier  and  his  club.  If  their 
intimacy  went  on,  they  might  have  worse  quarrels 
than  that.  For  me  the  significance  of  the  evening  lay 
not  in  another  proof  that  Jenny,  while  saving  her 
pride  and  scoring  her  formal  victory,  would  still  not 
let  him  go — and  perhaps  would  go  far  to  keep  him; 


78  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

that  was  an  old  story,  or,  at  least,  a  bit  of  discernment 
of  her  now  months  old;  rather  it  lay  in  Octon's  ac- 
count of  his  own  disposition  toward  her  proceedings 
— in  his  puzzle  whether  he  were  glad  or  sorry  to  be 
"  kicked  out  " — in  that  fear  of  himself  and  of  his 
self-restraint  which  made  him  relieved  to  go,  even 
while  his  face  was  wrung  with  the  pain  of  going.  In 
view  of  that,  I  felt  that  I  also  should  have  been  re- 
lieved if  he  had  really  gone — gone  not  to  return — 
not  to  submit  himself  again  to  the  variety  of  Jenny's 
ways — to  the  quick  flashing  alternation  of  her  weap- 
ons, natural,  conventional,  casual,  or  whatsoever  they 
might  be.  He  was  right  about  himself — he  was  not 
the  man  for  that  treatment.  He  could  not  appreciate 
the  artistic  excellence  of  it;  he  felt,  even  if  he  de- 
served, its  cruelty.  Moreover,  it  might  prove  danger- 
ous. What  if  he  beat  down  the  natural  weapons — 
and  ignored  the  rest?  One  thing  at  least  was  clear; 
he  would  not  again  tell  me — or  even  pretend  to  me 
— that  her  power  was  "  all  flim-flam." 

She  came  back  in  half  an  hour,  at  a  leisurely  pace, 
looking  much  pleased  with  herself. 

I  was  smoking  on  the  steps  by  the  hall  door. 

"  That's  all  right,"  she  assured  me  with  a  cheerful 
smile.  "  We're  quite  friends,  and  he's  not  going  to  be 
such  a  bear  any  more — if  he  can  help  it,  which,  Mr. 
Austin,   I  doubt." 

"How  did  you  manage  it?"  I  asked — not  that 
there  was  much  real  need  of  inquiry. 

"  Of  course  I  told  him  that  the  Institute  was  noth- 
ing but  an  idea,  and  that,  even  if  it  were  built,  its 
being  at  Hatcham  Ford  was  the  merest  idea,   and 


RAPIER    AND    CLUB  79 

that,  even  if  it  had  to  be  at  Hatcham  Ford — well, 
I  pointed  out  that  two  years  are  two  years — (You 
needn't  take  the  trouble  to  nod  about  that — it  was 
quite  a  sensible  remark) — that  two  years  are  two 
years  and  that  very  likely  he  wouldn't  want  the  house 
at  all  by  then." 

"  I  see." 

'  So,  of  course,  he  apologized  for  his  rudeness  and 
promised  not  to  be  so  foolish  again,  and  we  said 
good  night  quite  friends.  What  have  you  been  think- 
ing about?" 

'  I  don't  think  I  could  possibly  tell  you." 

I  was  just  opening  the  door  for  her.  She  paused  on 
the  threshold,  lifting  her  brows  a  little  and  smiling  as 
she  whispered,  "  Something  uncomplimentary?  " 

'  That  depends  what  you  want  to  be  complimented 
on,"  I  answered. 

"  Oh,  as  long  as  it's  on  anything!  "  she  cried. 
"  You'll  admit  my  compliments  to-night  have  been 
terribly  left-handed?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  mine  hasn't  a  touch  of  that. 
Well — I  think  it's  very  brave  to  play  games  in  the 
crater  of  an  active  volcano — exceedingly  brave  it  is!  " 

"Brave?  But  not  very ?" 

"  Let's  leave  it  where  it  is.  What  about  Cartmell's 
letter?  " 

'  That'll  do  to-morrow."  (Of  course  it  would — it 
had  been  only  an  instrument  of  dismissal.)  "  I'm  tired 
to-night."  Her  face  grew  grave:  she  experienced  an- 
other mood — or  touched  another  note.  "  My  friend, 
you  must  believe  that  I  always  listen  to  what  you  say. 
I  mayn't  see  things  just  as  you  seem  to,  sometimes, 


80  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

but  what  you  say  always  makes  me  think.  By  the  bye, 
are  you  very  busy,  or  could  you  ride  to-morrow?  ' 

"Of  course!'  I  cried  eagerly.  'Seven-thirty,  as 
usual?  " 

"  A  quarter  to  eight  sharp.  Good  night."  She  gave 
me  a  contented  friendly  smile,  with  just  a  hint  of 
triumph  about  it,  and  went  upstairs. 

It  shows  what  a  good  thing  life  is  that  I,  too,  in 
spite  of  my  questionings  and  apprehension,  repaired 
home  forgetful  of  them  for  the  time  and  full  of  ex- 
ultation. I  loved  riding;  and  Jenny  on  horseback  was 
a  companion  for  a  god. 

On  reflection  it  might  have  occurred  to  me  that 
it  was  easier  for  her  to  invite  me  to  ride  than  to 
listen  too  exactly  to  my  counsels — quite  as  easy  and 
really  as  well  calculated  to  keep  me  content.  Happily 
the  youth  in  me  found  in  her  more  than  the  subject 
of  fears  or  the  source  of  questionings.  She  could  also 
delight. 


CHAPTER   VI 


TAKING   TO    OPEN    SEA 


ON  her  morning  rides  Jenny  wore  a  habit  of 
russet  brown  and  a  broad-brimmed  hat  to 
match;  her  beautiful  mare  was  a  golden 
chestnut;  the  motive  and  the  crown  of  all  the  scheme 
showed  in  her  brilliant  hazel  eyes.  On  this  fine  morn- 
ing— there  was  a  touch  of  autumn  frost,  slowly  yield- 
ing before  the  growing  strength  of  the  sun,  but  the 
ground  was  springy  under  us — Jenny  bore  a  holiday 
air;  no  cares  and  no  schemes  beset  her.  To  my  poor 
ability  I  shared  and  seconded  her  mood,  though  my 
black  coat  and  drab  breeches  were  a  sad  failure  in 
the  matter  of  outward  expression.  She  made  straight 
for  the  north  gate  of  the  Priory  park;  we  passed 
through  it,  crossed  the  road,  and  entered,  by  a  farm- 
gate,  on  to  Fillingford  territory.  "  I  almost  always 
come  here,"  she  told  me.  "  There's  such  a  splendid 
gallop.  Now  and  then  I  meet  Lord  Lacey,  and  we 
have  a  race." 

Not  being  an  habitual  party  to  these  excursions — 
it  was  my  usual  lot  to  lie  in  wait  for  the  early  post  and 
reduce  the  letters  to  order  for  our  after-breakfast 
session — I  had  seen  and  heard  nothing  of  her  en- 
counters with  young  Lacey.  I  conceived  that  the  two 

81 


82  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

houses  were  still  on  the  terms  of  distant  civility  to 
which  Lady  Sarah's  passive  resistance  had  endeav- 
ored to  confine  them.  A  formal  call  from  each  lady 
on  the  other — a  no  less  formal  visit  to  Jenny  from 
Lord  Fillingford  (who  left  his  son's  card  also) — there 
it  had  seemed  to  stop,  the  Mayor  of  Catsford  and  the 
Memorial  Hall  perhaps  in  some  degree  contributing 
to  that  result.  Fine  mornings  a-horseback  and  youth- 
ful blood  had,  however,  sapped  Lady  Sarah's  defenses. 
I  was  glad — and  I  envied  Lacey.  He  had  much  to  be 
thankful  for.  True,  they  talked  of  sad  financial  trou- 
bles at  Fillingford  Manor,  but  you  may  hear  many 
a  fine  gentleman  rail  at  the  pinch  of  poverty,  as  he 
pours,  in  no  ungenerous  measure,  his  own  champagne 
down  his  throat  at  half-a-crown  a  glass.  Perhaps 
at  Fillingford  that  luxury  did  not  rule  every  day;  but 
at  any  rate  Lacey  had  a  good  horse  to  ride — to  say 
nothing  of  pleasant  company. 

Well,  all  he  had  he  deserved,  if  only  because  he 
looked  what  he  was  so  splendidly.  If  Providence,  or 
nature,  or  society  makes  a  scheme  of  things,  it  is 
surely  a  merit  in  us  poor  units  to  fit  into  it?  Let 
others  attack  or  defend  the  country  gentleman.  Any- 
how, if  you  are  one,  look  it!  And  for  such  an  one 
as  does  look  it  I  have  a  heartfelt  admiration,  from 
the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot — with 
a  special  affection  for  his  legs  in  perfect  boots  and 
breeches.  Young  Lacey  was  such  a  consummate  type; 
I  did  not  wonder  that  Jenny's  ever  liberal  apprecia- 
tion smiled  beams  of  approval  as  he  appeared  over 
the  crest  of  a  rising  hillock  and  rode  on  to  meet  us. 
Excellent,  too,  were  the  lad's  manners;  he  appeared 


TAKING    TO    OPEN    SEA  83 

really  glad  to  see  me — which  in  the  nature  of  the 
case  he  hardly  can  have  been  in  his  heart. 

"  I'm  going  to  win  this  morning!  '  he  cried  to 
Jenny.  "  I  feel  like  winning  to-day!  " 

"  Why  to-day?  You  don't  win  very  often." 

"  That's  true,"  he  said  to  me.  "  Miss  Driver's  won 
two  to  my  one,  regular.  At  sixpence  a  race  I  owe  her 
three  shillings  already." 

I  had  a  feeling  that  Jenny  glanced  at  me,  but  I  did 
not  look  at  Jenny.  I  did  not  even  do  the  sum,  though 
it  was  easy  arithmetic. 

"  But  to-day — well,  in  the  first  place  I've  got  my 
commission — and  in  the  second  Aunt  Sarah's  gone  to 
London  for  a  week." 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  the  commission." 

"  And  you're  loftily  indifferent  about  Aunt  Sarah?  ': 
he  asked,  laughing.  "  I  say,  though,  come  along!  Are 
you  a  starter,  Mr.  Austin?  " 

I  declined  the  invitation,  but  I  managed  to  keep 
them  well  in  sight — and  my  deliberate  opinion  is  that 
Jenny  pulled.  She  could  have  won,  I  swear  it,  if  she 
had  liked;  as  it  was,  she  was  beaten  by  a  length.  The 
lad  was  ingenuously  triumphant.  "  Science  is  begin- 
ning to  tell,"  he  declared.  "  You  won't  hold  your  lead 
long!" 

:'  Sometimes  it's  considered  polite  to  let  a  lady 
win,"  Jenny  suggested. 

'Oh,  come!  If  she  challenges  she  must  take  her 
chance  in  fair  fight." 

'  Then  what  chance  have  we  poor  women?  "  asked 
deceptive  Jenny — who  could  have  won  the  race. 
1  You  beat  us  in  some  things,  I  admit.  Brains,  very 


84  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

often,  and,  of  course,  charm  and  all  that  sort  01 
thing."  He  paused  a  moment,  blushed  a  little,  and 
added,  "  And — er — of  course — out  of  sight  in  moral 
qualities." 

I  liked  his  "  moral  qualities."  It  hinted  that  rever- 
ence was  alive  in  him.  I  am  not  sure  it  did  not  indi- 
cate that  the  reverence  due  to  woman  in  the  abstract 
was  supremely  due  to  the  woman  by  his  side. 

"  Out  of  sight  in  moral  qualities?  "  she  repeated 
thoughtfully.  "  Yes,  I  suppose  even  a  woman  may 
hope  that  that's  true.  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr. 
Austin?  " 

"  It  has  always  been  conceded  in  civilized  com- 
munities," I  agreed. 

"What  I  hate  about  that  fellow  Octon —  Oh,  I 
beg  pardon — isn't  he  a  friend  of  yours?" 

"  I  know  him  pretty  well.  He's  rather  interesting." 

"  I  hate  the  fellow's  tone  about — about  that  sort 
of  thing.  Cheap,  I  call  it.  But  I  don't  suppose  he  does 
it  to  you;  you  wouldn't  stand  it." 

"  I'm  very  patient  with  my  friends,"  said  Jenny. 

"  Friends!  You  and  that — !  Oh,  well,  let's  have  an- 
other gallop." 

The  gallop  brought  us  in  full  view  of  Fillingford 
Manor;  it  lay  over  against  us  in  the  valley,  broad 
expanses  of  meadow  and  of  lawn  leading  up  to  a 
formal  garden,  beyond  which  rose  the  long  low  red- 
brick faqade  half  covered  with  ivy,  and  a  multitude  of 
twisting  chimneys. 

"Jolly  old  place,  isn't  it?"  cried  Lacey.  "I  say, 
wouldn't  you  like  to  see  over  it?  I  don't  expect  Aunt 
Sarah  showed  you  much!  " 


TAKING    TO    OPEN    SEA  85 

"  I  should  like  to  see  over  it  very  much,  if  your 
father  would  ask  me." 

'  Oh,  he  will — he'll  be  delighted.  I  say,  come  this 
week — while  we're  by  ourselves?  " 

"  Yes,  if  he  invites  me." 

"  He'll  invite  you.  He  likes  you  very  much — only 
he's  not  exactly  expansive,  you  know,  the  gov- 
ernor! " 

''*  Never  mind,  you  are.  Now  Mr.  Austin  and  I  must 
go  back  to  breakfast  and  to  work." 

"  By  Jove,  I  must  be  getting  back,  too,  or  I  shall 
keep  the  governor  waiting,  and  he  doesn't  like  that." 

"  If  you  do,  tell  him  it's  my  fault." 

The  boy  looked  at  her,  then  at  me,  again  blushed 
a  little,  and  laughed.  The  slightest  flush  appeared  on 
Jenny's  smiling  face.  I  took  the  opportunity  to  light 
a  cigarette.  The  morning  races  had  not  been  talked 
about  at  Fillingford! 

'  Well  no — you  mustn't  put  it  on  the  woman,  must 
you?  "  said  Jenny,  as  she  waved  a  laughing  farewell. 

On  our  way  home  she  was  silent  and  thoughtful, 
speaking  only  now  and  then  and  answering  one  or 
two  remarks  of  mine  rather  absently.  One  observa- 
tion threw  some  light  on  her  thoughts. 

"  It's  very  awkward  that  Mr.  Octon  should  make 
himself  so  unpopular.  I  want  to  be  friends  with  every- 
body, but — "  She  broke  off.  I  did  no  more  than  give 
a  nod  of  assent.  But  I  knew — and  thought  she  must 
— how  Octon  stood.  He  was  considered  to  have  made 
himself  impossible.  He  was  not  asked  to  Fillingford; 
Aspenick  had  bluntly  declared  that  he  would  not  meet 
him  on  account  of  a  rude  speech  of  Octon's,  leveled 


86  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

at  Lady  Aspenick;  Bertram  Ware  and  he  were  at 
daggers  drawn  over  some  semipolitical  semiprivate 
squabble  in  which  Octon's  language  had  been  of 
more  than  its  usual  violence.  The  town  loved  him  no 
better  than  the  county.  Jenny  wanted  to  be  popular 
everywhere — popular,  influential,  acclaimed.  She  was 
weighted  by  this  unpopular  friendship — which  yet  had 
such  attraction  for  her.  The  cares  of  state  had  fast- 
ened on  her  again  as  we  jogged  homeward. 

Well,  they  were  the  joy  of  her  life — it  would  have 
needed  a  dull  man  not  soon  to  see  that.  The  real  joy, 
I  mean — not  what  at  that  moment — nay,  nor  per- 
haps at  any  moment — she  would  herself  have  named 
as  her  delight.  Her  joy  in  the  sense  in  which  we 
creatures — and  the  wisest  among  us  long  ago — come 
nearest  to  being  able  to  understand  and  define  the 
innermost  engine  or  instinct  whose  working  is  most 
truly  ourselves — the  temptation  to  live  and  life  it- 
self which  pair  nature  has  so  cunningly  coupled  to- 
gether. Effective  activity — the  reaching  out  to  make 
of  external  things  and  people  (especially,  perhaps, 
things  and  people  that  obstinately  resist)  part  of  our 
own  domain — their  currency  coinage  of  ours,  with 
the  stamp  of  our  mint,  bearing  our  superscription — 
causing  the  writ  of  our  issuing  to  run  where  it  did 
not  run  before — is  not  this,  however  ill-expressed 
(and  bigger  men  than  I  have  failed,  and  will  fail,  fully 
to  express  it),  something  like  what  the  human  spirit 
attempts?  Or  is  there,  too,  a  true  gospel  of  drawing 
in — of  renouncing?  In  the  essential,  mind  you! — It  is 
easy  in  trifles,  in  indulgences  and  luxuries.  But  to 
surrender  the  exercise  and  expansion  of  self? 


TAKING    TO    OPEN    SEA  87 

If  that  be  right,  if  that  be  true — at  any  rate  it  was 
not  Jenny  Driver.  She  was  a  srong,  natural-born 
swimmer,  cast  now  for  the  first  time  into  open 
sea — after  the  duck  ponds  of  her  Smalls  and  her 
Simpsons.  It  was  not  the  smooth  waters  which 
tested,  tried,  or  in  innermost  truth  delighted  her 
most. 

All  this  in  a  very  tiny  corner?  Of  course.  Will  you 
find  me  anywhere  that  is  not  a  corner,  please?  Alex- 
ander worked  in  one,  and  Caesar.  "  What  does  it 
matter  then  what  I  do?  "  "  No  more,"  I  must  answer, 
being  no  philosopher  and  therefore  unprepared  with  a 
theory,  "  than  it  matters  whether  or  not  you  are 
squashed  under  yonder  train.  But  if  you  think — on 
your  own  account — that  the  one  matters,  why,  for  all 
we  can  say,  perhaps  the  other  does." 

That  duck  pond  of  the  Simpsons'  !  By  apparent 
chance — it  may  be,  in  fact,  by  some  unusual  recep- 
tivity in  my  own  bearing — that  very  day  Chat  talked 
to  me  about  it.  I  had  grown  friendlier  toward  Chat, 
having  perceived  that  the  cunning  in  her — (it  was 
there,  and  refuted  Cartmell's  charge  of  mere  foolish- 
ness)— ran  to  no  more  than  a  decent  selfishness,  in- 
formed by  years  of  study  of  Jenny,  deflected  by  a 
spinsterish  admiration  of  Octon's  claim  to  unques- 
tioned male  dominion.  Her  reason  said — "  We  are 
very  well  as  we  are.  I  am  comfortable.  I  am  <  putting 
by.'  Jenny's  marriage  might  make  things  worse."  The 
spinster  added,  "  But  this  must  end  some  day.  Let 
it  end — when  it  must — in  an  irresistible  (perhaps  to 
Chat's  imagination  a  rather  lurid)  conquest."  Para- 
doxically her  instinct  (for  if  anything  be  an  instinct, 


88  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

selfishness  is)  squared  with  what  I  had  deciphered  of 
Jenny's  strategy — in  immediate  action  at  least.  Chat 
would  not  have  Octon  shown  the  door;  neither  would 
she  set  him  at  the  head  of  the  table — just  yet.  Being 
comfortable,  she  abhorred  all  chance  of  convulsions — 
as  Jenny,  being  powerful,  resented  all  threat  of  do- 
minion. But  if  the  convulsion  must  come — as  it  must 
some  day — Chat  wanted  it  dramatic — matter  for  gos- 
sip and  for  flutters!  To  her  taste  Octon  fulfilled  that 
aesthetic  requirement. 

Naturally  Chat  saw  Jenny  at  the  Simpsons'  from 
her  own  point  of  view — through  herself — and  by  that 
avenue  approached  the  topic. 

"  Of  course  things  are  very  much  changed  for  the 
better  in  most  ways,  Mr.  Austin — if  they'll  only  last. 
The  comforts! — And,  of  course,  the  salary!  Well,  it's 
not  the  thing  to  talk  about  that.  Still  I  daresay  you 
yourself  sometimes  think — ?  Yes,  of  course,  one  must 
consider  it.  But  there  were  features  of  the  rectory  life 
which  I  confess  I  miss.  We  had  always  a  very  cheer- 
ful tea,  and  supper,  too,  was  sociable.  In  fact  one 
never  wanted  for  a  chat.  Here  I'm  thrown  very  much 
on  my  own  resources.  Jenny  is  out  or  busy,  and  Mrs. 
Bennet — the  housekeeper,  you  know — is  reserved 
and,  of  course,  not  at  her  ease  with  me.  And  then 
there  was  the  authority!  "  (Was  Chat  also  among  the 
Caesars?)  "  Poor  Chat  had  a  great  deal  of  authority 
at  the  rectory,  Mr.  Austin — yes — she  had!  Mrs.  Simp- 
son an  invalid — the  rector  busy  or  not  caring  to  med- 
dle— the  girls  were  left  entirely  to  me.  My  word  was 
law."  She  shook  her  head  regretfully  over  the  change 
in  her  position. 


TAKING    TO    OPEN    SEA  89 

'  We  all  like  that,   Miss   Chatters,  when  we  can 
get  it!" 

"  Jenny,  of  course,  was  different — and  that  made  it 
difficult  sometimes.  Besides  being  the  eldest,  she  was 
very  well  paid  for  and,  although  not  pampered  and, 
I  must  say,  considering  all  things  as  I  now  know 
them,  very  ill-supplied  with  pocket  money,  there  were 
orders  that  she  should  ride  every  day.Two  horses  and 
the  hostler  from  the  Bull  every  clay — except  Sundays! 
It  couldn't  but  make  a  difference,  especially  with  a 
girl  of  Jenny's  disposition — not  altogether  an  easy 
one,  Mr.  Austin.  It  had  to  be  give-and-take  between 
us.  If  she  obeyed  me,  there  were  many  little  things 
I  could  do — having,  as  I  say,  the  authority.  If  she 
would  do  her  lessons  well — and  her  example  had 
great  influence  on  the  others — I  didn't  trouble  to  see 
what  books  she  had  in  her  bedroom  (with  the  other 
girls  I  did),  nor  even  ask  questions  if  she  stayed  out 
a  little  late  for  supper.  Of  course  we  had  to  be  very 
much  on  our  guard;  it  didn't  do  to  make  the  Simp- 
son girls  jealous." 

"  You  had  a  little  secret  understanding  between 
yourselves?  " 

'  Never,  Mr.  Austin!  I  wouldn't  have  done  such  a 
thing  with  any  of  my  pupils.  It  would  be  subversive 
of  discipline." 

'  Of  course  it  would;  I  beg  your  pardon."  (Here  a 
little  "  homage  to  virtue  "  on  both  our  parts!) 

'  She  knew  how  far  she  could  go;  she  knew  when 
I  must  say  '  Stop!  '  She  never  put  me  to  it — though 
I  must  say  she  went  very  near  the  line  sometimes. 
She  came  to  us  very  raw,  too,  with  really  no  idea  of 


90  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

what  was  ladylike.  What  those  Smalls  can  have  been 
like!  You  see  what  she  is  now.  I  don't  think  I  did  so 
badly." 

I  saw  what  she  was  now — or  some  of  it.  And  I 
seemed  to  see  it  all  growing  up  in  that  country  rec- 
tory— the  raw  girl  from  the  Smalls  (those  deplorable 
Smalls!)  at  Cheltenham,  learning  her  youthful  lessons 
in  diplomacy — how  far  one  can  go,  where  one  must 
stop,  how  keen  a  bargain  can  be  struck  with  Author- 
ity. Chat  had  been  Authority  then.  There  was  another 
now.  Yet  where  the  difference  in  principle? 

"  I  can't  have  managed  so  very  badly,  because  they 
were  all  broken-hearted  to  lose  me — I  often  think 
how  they  can  be  getting  on! — and  here  I  am  with 
Jenny!  Well,  poor  Chat  would  have  had  to  go  soon, 
anyhow.  They  were  all  growing  up.  That  time  comes. 
It  must  be  so  in  my  profession,  Mr.  Austin.  Indis- 
pensable to-day,  to-morrow  you're  not  wanted!" 

"  That  sounds  sad.  You  must  be  glad,  in  the  end, 
that  you  didn't  stay?  " 

"  It'll  be  the  same  here  some  day.  For  all  you  or  I 
know,  it  might  be  to-morrow.  The  only  thing  is  to 
suit  as  long  as  we  can,  and  to  put  by  a  little." 

I  vowed — within  my  breast — that  henceforth  Chat's 
little  foibles  —  or  defenses?  —  her  time-serving,  her 
cowardice,  her  flutters,  her  judgment  of  Jenny's  con- 
cerns from  a  point  of  view  not  primarily  Jenny's,  her 
encroachments  on  the  port  and  other  stolen  (probably 
transient!)  luxuries — all  these  should  meet  with  gentle 
and  sympathetic  appraisement.  She  was  only  trying 
to  "  suit  " — and  meanwhile  to  put  by  a  little.  But  I 
was  not  sure  what  she  had  done,  or  helped  to  do,  to 


TAKING    TO    OPEN    SEA  91 

Jenny,  nor  that  her  ex-pupil's  best  course  would  not 
lie  in  presenting  her  with  her  conge  and  a  substantial 
annuity. 

An  invitation  came  from  Fillingford  in  which  Chat 
and  I  were  courteously  included.  Jenny,  however, 
found  work  for  poor  Chat  at  home  (alas,  for  the  days 
of  Authority!)  and  made  me  drive  her  over  in  the 
dog-cart.  As  we  drove  in  at  the  gates,  she  asked  sud- 
denly, "  How  am  I  to  behave?  " 

"  Don't  look  at  anything  as  if  you  wanted  to  buy 
it,"  was  the  best  impromptu  advice  I  could  hit  on. 

"  I  might  do  it  tactfully!  Don't  you  remember  what 
my  father  said? — '  You  may  succeed  in  your  way  bet- 
ter than  I  in  mine.'  " 

"  I  remember.  And  you  think  he  referred  to  tact?  ': 

Jenny  took  so  long  to  answer  that  there  was  no 
time  to  answer  at  all;  we  were  at  the  door,  and  young 
Lacey  was  waiting. 

The  house  was  beautiful  and  stately;  I  think  that 
Jenny  was  surprised  to  find  that  it  was  also  in  de- 
cent repair.  There  was  nothing  ragged,  nothing 
poverty-stricken;  a  grave  and  moderate  handsome- 
ness marked  all  the  equipment.  The  fall  in  fortune 
was  rather  to  be  inferred  from  what  was  absent  than 
rudely  shown  in  the  present  condition  of  affairs.  Thus 
the  dining-room  was  called  the  Vandyke  Room — but 
there  were  no  Vandykes;  a  charming  little  boudoir 
was  called  the  Madonna  Parlor — but  the  Madonna 
had  taken  flight,  probably  a  long  flight  across  the 
Atlantic.  In  giving  us  the  names  Lord  Fillingford 
made  no  reference  to  their  being  no  longer  applicable 
— he  seemed  to  use  them  in  mechanical  habit,  forget- 


92  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

fill  of  their  significance — and  Jenny,  mindful  perhaps 
of  the  spirit  of  my  warning,  refrained  from  questions. 
But  for  what  was  to  be  seen  she  had  a  generous  and 
genuine  enthusiasm;  the  sedate  beauty  and  serenely 
grand  air  of  the  old  place  went  to  her  heart. 

But  one  picture  did  hang  in  the  Madonna  Parlor — 
a  half-length  of  a  beautiful  high-bred  girl  with  large 
dark  eyes  and  a  figure  slight  almost  to  emacia- 
tion. Lacey  and  I,  who  were  behind,  entered  the 
room  just  as  the  other  two  came  to  a  stand  before 
it.  I  saw  Jenny's  face  turn  toward  Fillingford  in 
inquiry. 

"  My  wife,"  he  said.  "  She  died  thirteen  years  ago 
— when  Amyas  was  only  five."  His  voice  was  dry,  but 
he  looked  steadily  at  the  picture  with  a  noticeable 
intentness  of  gaze. 

"  This  was  mother's  own  room,  Miss  Driver," 
Lacey  interposed. 

"  Yes.  How — how  it  must  have  suited  her!  "  said 
Jenny  in  a  low  voice. 

Fillingford  turned  his  head  sharply  round  and 
looked  at  her;  with  a  slight  smile  he  nodded  his  head. 
"  She  was  very  fond  of  this  room.  She  had  it  fur- 
nished in  blue — instead  of  yellow."  Then  he  moved 
quickly  to  the  door.  "  There's  nothing  else  you'd  care 
to  see  here,  I  think." 

After  lunch  Lacey  carried  Jenny  off  to  the  garden 
— his  father  seemed  to  think  that  he  had  done  enough 
as  host  and  to  acquiesce  readily  in  the  devolution  of 
his  duties — and  I  sat  awhile  with  Fillingford,  smok- 
ing cigarettes — well,  he  only  smoked  one.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  the  man  was  like  his  house;  just  as  the 


TAKING    TO    OPEN    SEA  93 

state  of  its  fortune  was  not  rudely  declared  in  any- 
thing unbecoming  or  shabby,  but  had  to  be  gathered 
from  the  gaps  where  beauties  once  had  figured,  so  the 
essence  of  him,  and  the  road  to  understanding  him, 
lay  in  his  reserves,  his  silences,  his  defensiveness. 
What  he  refrained  from  doing,  being,  or  saying,  was 
the  most  significant  thing  about  him.  His  manners 
were  irreproachable,  his  courtesy  cast  in  a  finer  mold 
than  that  of  an  ordinary  gentleman,  yet  he  did  not 
achieve  real  cordiality  and  remained  at  a  very  long 
arm's  length  from  intimacy.  His  highest  degree  of 
approval  seemed  to  consist  in  an  absence  of  disappro- 
bation; yet,  feeling  that  this  negative  reward  of  merit 
was  hard  to  win,  the  recipient  took  the  unsubstantial 
guerdon  with  some  gratification.  My  own  hope  was 
to  escape  from  his  presence  without  having  caused 
him  to  think  that  I  had  done  anything  offensive;  if 
he  had  nothing  against  me,  I  should  be  content.  I 
wondered  whether  he  were  satisfied  to  have  the  like 
measure  meted  out  to  him.  His  son  had  said  he  was 
"  not  expansive  "  :  that  was  like  denying  silkiness  to 
a  porcupine.  Yet  there  was  that  about  him  which 
commanded  respect — at  least  a  respect  appropriately 
negative;  you  felt  certain  that  he  would  do  nothing 
sordid  and  touch  nothing  unclean;  he  would  always 
be  true  to  the  code  of  his  class  and  generation. 

We  heard  laughter  from  Jenny  and  Lacey  echoing 
down  the  long  passages  as  they  returned  from  the 
garden;  from  the  noise  their  feet  made  they  seemed 
to  be  racing  again.  The  sounds  interrupted  a  rather 
perfunctory  conversation  about  Nicholas  Driver  and 
the  growth  of  Catsford.  Rather  to  my  surprise — I 


94  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

must  confess — his  face  lit  up  with  a  smile — a  smile 
of  pensive  sweetness. 

"  That  sounds  cheerful,"  he  said.  "  More  like  old 
days!"  Then  he  looked  at  me  apprehensively,  as 
though  afraid  that  he  had  proffered  an  uninvited  con- 
fidence. He  went  on  almost  apologetically.  "  It's  very 
quiet  here.  My  health  doesn't  fit  me  for  public  life, 
or  even  for  much  work  in  the  county.  We  do  our 
duty,  I  hope,  but  we  tend  rather  to  fall  out  of  the 
swim.  It  wasn't  so  in  my  wife's  time.  Well,  Amyas 
will  bring  all  that  back  again  some  day,  I  hope." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  he's  got  his  commission," 
said  I. 

"  Yes,  he  must  go  and  do  some  work,  while  I  hold 
the  fort  for  him  at  home.  Landed  property  needs  a 
great  deal  of  attention  nowadays,  Mr.  Austin."  Again 
he  smiled,  but  now  wearily,  as  though  his  stewardship 
were  a  heavy  burden. 

The  laughing  pair  burst  into  the  room.  Amyas  was 
flushed,  Jenny  seemed  out  of  breath;  they  had  a  great 
joke  to  tell. 

"  We've  found  a  picture  of  Miss  Driver  in  the  West 
Gallery,"  cried  Amyas.  "  Really  it  must  be  her — it's 
exactly  like!  " 

"  Fancy  my  picture  being  in  your  house  all  this 
time,  Lord  Fillingford — and  you  never  told  me!  " 

Fillingford  was  looking  intently  at  Jenny  now.  He 
raised  his  brows  a  little  and  smiled,  as  the  result  of 
his  survey. 

"  Yes — I'm  afraid  I  know  which  picture  Amyas 
means,  though  I  don't  often  go  to  the  West  Gallery. 
The  one  on  the  right  of  the  north  door,  Amyas?  " 


TAKING    TO    OPEN    SEA  95 

"  Yes — in  a  wonderful  gown  all  over  pearls,  you 
know." 

"  Who  is  she — besides  me?  "  asked  Jenny.  "  Be- 
cause I  believe  she  has  a  look  of  me  really." 

"  She's  an  ancestress — a  collateral  ancestress  at 
least — of  ours.  She  was  one  of  Oueen  Elizabeth's 
ladies.  But  we're  not  proud  of  her — and  you  mustn't 
be  proud  of  the  likeness — if  there  is  one,  Miss 
Driver." 

"  But  I  am  proud  of  it.  I  think  she's  very  pretty — 
and  some  day  I'll  have  a  gown  made  just  like  that." 

"  Why  aren't  we  proud  of  her,  father? "  asked 
young  Lacey. 

"  She  got  into  sad  disgrace — and  very  nearly  into 
the  Tower,  I  believe.  Elizabeth  made  her  kinsman 
Lord  Lacey — one  of  my  predecessors — take  her  away 
from  Court  and  bring  her  down  to  the  country.  Here 
she  was  kept — in  fact  more  or  less  imprisoned.  But 
it  didn't  last  many  years.  Smallpox  carried  her  off, 
poor  thing — it  was  very  bad  in  these  parts  about 
1590 — and,  unluckily  for  her,  before  the  queen  died. 

"  What  was  her  name?  " 

"  Mistress  Eleanor  Lacey." 

"  And  what  had  she  done?  "  pursued  Jenny,  full  of 
interest. 

"  Ah,  well,  what  was  the  truth  about  it — who  can 
tell  now?  It  was  never  important  enough  to  get  put 
on  record.  But  the  family  tradition  is  that  the  Queen 
was  jealous  of  her  place  in  Leicester's  affections."  He 
smiled  at  Jenny.  "  I  wish  Amyas  had  found  you  a 
more  acceptable  prototype!  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Jenny  thoughtfully.  "  I 


96  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

like  her  looks.  Do  you  believe  that  what  they  said 
was  true?  " 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say  that,  again  according  to  the  fam- 
ily tradition,  it  was." 

Our  dog-cart  had  been  ready  for  some  minutes. 
Jenny  said  good-by,  and  both  father  and  son  escorted 
her  to  the  door. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  see  you  at  dinner  as  soon  as  my 
sister  comes  back,"  said  Fillingford,  as  he  helped  her 
to  mount  into  the  cart.  "  We  must  have  a  little  fes- 
tivity for  Amyas  before  he  joins." 

Jenny  was  all  thanks  and  cordiality,  and  drove  off 
smiling  and  waving  her  hand  gayly. 

"  Isn't  that  really  rather  interesting  about  Eleanor 
Lacey?  Mind  you  go  and  see  the  picture  next  time 
you're  there!  It's  really  very  like." 

I  promised  to  see  the  picture,  and  asked  her  how 
she  had  got  on  with  Fillingford. 

"  Oh,  I  like  him  well  enough,  but — "  She  paused 
and  smiled  reflectively.  "  Down  at  the  Simpsons' 
there  was  a  certain  young  man — boy  he  really  was — 
whom  we  called  Rabbit.  That  was  only  because  of 
the  shape  of  his  mouth,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  story!  I  used  sometimes  to  walk  heme  with  Rab- 
bit— from  evening  church,  or  lawn-tennis  parties,  and 
so  on,  you  know."  (Were  these  the  occasions  on  which 
she  was  rather  late  for  supper — without  incurring 
Chat's  rebuke?)  "  We  girls  used  to  laugh  at  him  be- 
cause he  always  began  by  taking  great  pains  to  show 
you  that  he  didn't  mean  to  flirt — well,  at  all  events, 
didn't  mean  to  begin  the  flirtation.  If  you  wanted 
to  flirt,  you  must  begin  yourself — that  was  Rabbit's 


TAKING    TO    OPEN    SEA  97 

attitude,  and  he  made  it  perfectly  plain  in  his 
behavior. 

"  Rabbit  can't  have  been  a  very  amusing  youth  to 
walk  home  with  in  the  gloaming?  ':  I  ventured  to 
suggest. 

"  He  wasn't,  but  then  there  wasn't  much  choice 
down  at  the  Simpsons',  you  know.  Besides,  it  could 
be  made  rather  funny  with  Rabbit.  You  see,  he 
wouldn't  begin  because  he  had  such  a  terror  of  being 
snubbed."  She  laughed  in  an  amused  reminiscence. 
"  I  think  I  shall  call  Lord  Fillingford  Rabbit,"  she 
ended. 

"  It'll  be  very  disrespectful." 

"  Oh,  you  can't  make  all  the  nicknames  for  your- 
self! "  She  paused  and  added,  apparently  with  a  good 
deal  of  satisfaction — "  Rabbit — and  Volcano — yes! ': 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE    FLICK    OF    A    WHIP 

JENNY  spent  a  large  part  of  the  winter  in  Italy, 
Chat  being  with  her,  Cartmell  and  I  left  in 
charge  at  home.  But  early  in  the  New  Year  she 
came  back  and  then,  her  mourning  being  over,  she 
launched  out.  Without  forgetting  her  father's  injunc- 
tion against  spending  all  her  income,  she  organized 
the  household  on  a  more  extensive  scale;  new  car- 
riages and  more  horses,  a  couple  of  motors,  and  a 
little  electric  launch  for  the  lake  were  among  the 
additions  she  made.  The  out-of-doors  staff  grew  till 
Cartmell  had  to  ask  for  an  estate-steward  to  take 
the  routine  off  his  shoulders,  while  Mrs.  Bennet  and 
Loft  blazed  with  pride  at  the  swelling  numbers  of 
their  subordinates  in  the  house  itself.  Jenny's  taste 
for  splendor  came  out.  She  even  loved  a  touch  of  the 
gorgeous;  old  Mr.  Driver's  dark  blue  liveries  as- 
sumed a  decidedly  brighter  tint,  and  I  heard  her  ex- 
press regret  that  postilions  and  four  horses  were  in 
these  days  thought  ostentatious  except  for  very  great 
national  or  local  potentates.  "  If  I  were  a  peeress,  I 
would  have  them,"  she  declared  rather  wistfully.  If 
that  were  the  condition  and  the  only  one,  after  all 
we  might  perhaps  live  to  see  the  four  horses  and  the 

98 


THE    FLICK    OF   A   WHIP  99 

postilions  at  Breysgate  before  we  were  many  months 
older.  By  now,  there  was  matter  for  much  specula- 
tion about  her  future;  the  closer  you  were  to  her, 
the  more  doubtful  any  speculation  seemed. 

This  was  the  time  of  her  greatest  glory — when  she 
was  fresh  to  her  state  and  delighting  in  it,  when  all 
the  neighborhood  seemed  to  be  at  her  feet,  town  and 
county  vying  in  doing  her  honor — and  in  accepting 
her  hospitality. 

Entertainment  followed  entertainment;  now  it  was 
the  poor,  now  it  was  the  rich,  whom  she  fed  and 
feted.  The  crown  of  her  popularity  came  perhaps  when 
she  declared  that  she  would  have  no  London  house 
and  wanted  no  London  season.  Catsford  and  the 
county  were  good  enough  for  her.  The  Catsford 
Herald  and  Times  printed  an  article  on  this  subject 
which  was  almost  lyrical  in  its  anticipation  of  a  re- 
turn of  the  good  old  days  when  the  aristocracy  found 
their  own  town  enough.  It  was  headed  "  Catsford  a 
Metropolis — Why  not?"  And  it  was  Jenny  who  was 
to  imbue  the  borough  with  this  enviable  metropolitan 
character!  This  was  Redeunt  Saturnia  regna  with  a 
vengeance! 

To  all  outward  appearance  she  was  behaving  ad- 
mirably— and  her  acquaintance  with  Fillingford  had 
reached  to  as  near  intimacy  as  it  was  ever  likely  to 
get  while  it  rested  on  a  basis  of  mere  neighborly 
friendship.  Lady  Sarah  had  been  convinced  or  van- 
quished— it  was  impossible  to  say  which.  At  any  rate 
she  had  withdrawn  her  opposition  to  intercourse  be- 
tween the  two  houses  and  appeared  to  contemplate 
with  resignation,  if  not  with  enthusiasm,  a  prospect 


».. 


ioo  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

of  which  people  had  now  begun  to  talk — not  always 
under  their  breath.  Fillingford  Manor  and  Breysgate 
were  now  united  closely  enough  for  folk  to  ask 
whether  they  were  to  be  united  more  closely  still.  For 
my  own  part  I  must  admit  that,  if  Lord  Fillingford 
were  wooing,  he  showed  few  of  the  usual  signs;  but 
perhaps  Jenny  was!  I  remembered  the  story  of  Rab- 
bit— without  forgetting  the  subject  of  the  other  nick- 
name ! 

Old  Cartmell  was  a  great  advocate  of  the  Filling- 
ford alliance.  House  laid  to  house  and  field  to  field 
were  anathema  to  the  Prophet;  for  a  family  lawyer 
they  have  a  wonderful  attraction.  An  estate  well- 
rounded  off,  spacious,  secure  from  encroachment 
and,  with  proper  capital  outlay,  returning  three  per 
cent. — he  admires  it  as  the  rest  of  us  a  Velasquez — 
well,  some  of  us — or  others,  a  thoroughbred.  Careful 
man  as  he  was,  he  declined  to  be  dismayed  at  Jenny's 
growing  expenditure.  "  The  income's  growing,  too," 
he  said.  "  It  grows  and  must  grow  with  the  borough. 
Old  Nick  Driver  had  a  very  long  head!  She  can't 
help  becoming  richer,  whatever  she  does — in  reason." 
He  winked  at  me,  adding,  "  After  all,  it  isn't  as  if  she 
had  to  buy  Fillingford,  is  it?  "  I  did  not  feel  quite 
sure  that  it  was  not — and  at  a  high  price ;  but  to  say 
that  would  have  been  to  travel  into  another  sphere  of 
discussion. 

"  Well,  I'm  very  glad  her  affairs  are  so  flourishing. 
But  I  wish  the  new  liveries  weren't  so  nearly  sky-blue. 
I  hope  she  won't  want  to  put  you  and  me  in  them!  '• 

Cartmell  paid  no  heed  to  the  liveries.  He  took  a 
puff  at  his  cigar  and  said,  "  Now — if  only  she'll  keep 


THE    FLICK    OF    A    WHIP  101 

straight!  '  That  would  have  seemed  an  odd  thing  to 
say — to  anyone  not  near  her. 

Yet  trouble  came — most  awkwardly  and  at  a  most 
awkward  moment.  Octon  himself  was  the  cause  of  it, 
and  I — unluckily  for  myself — the  only  independent 
witness  of  the  central  incident. 

He  had — like  Jenny — been  away  most  of  the  win- 
ter, but  I  had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  they  had 
met  or  even  been  in  communication;  in  fact,  I  believe 
that  he  was  in  London  most  of  the  time,  finishing 
his  new  book  and  superintending  the  elaborate  illus- 
trations with  which  it  was  adorned.  He  did,  however, 
reappear  at  Hatcham  Ford  close  on  the  heels  of 
Jenny's  return  to  Breysgate,  and  the  two  resumed 
their  old — and  somewhat  curious — relations.  If  ever 
it  were  true  of  two  people  that  they  could  live  neither 
with  nor  without  one  another,  it  seemed  true  of  that 
couple.  He  was  always  seeking  her,  and  she  ever 
ready  and  eager  to  welcome  him;  yet  at  every  other 
meeting  at  least  they  had  a  tiff — Jenny  being,  I  must 
say,  seldom  the  aggressor,  at  least  in  the  presence  of 
third  persons:  perhaps  her  offenses,  such  as  they 
were,  were  given  in  private.  But  there  was  one  differ- 
ence which  I  perceived  quickly,  but  which  Octon 
seemed  slower  to  notice:  I  hoped  that  he  might  never 
notice  it  at  all,  or,  if  he  did,  accept  it  peaceably. 
Jenny  preferred,  if  it  were  possible,  to  receive  him 
when  the  household  party  alone  was  present;  when 
the  era  of  entertaining  set  in,  he  was  bidden  on  the 
off-nights.  No  doubt  this  practice  admitted  of  being 
put — and  perhaps  was  put  by  Jenny — in  a  flattering 
way.   But  it  was  impossible  to  be  safe  with  him — 


102  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

there  was  no  telling  how  his  temper  would  take  him. 
So  long  as  he  believed  that  Jenny  herself  best  liked 
to  see  him  intimately,  all  would  go  well;  but  if  once 
he  struck  on  the  truth — that  she  was  yielding  defer- 
ence to  the  wishes  of  his  enemies,  her  neighbors — 
there  might  very  probably  be  an  explosion.  "  Vol- 
cano "  would  get  active  if  he  thought  that  "  Rabbit ': 
and  company — Jenny  had  concealed  neither  nick- 
name from  him — were  being  consulted.  Or  he  might 
get  just  a  wayward  whim;  if  his  temper  were  out, 
he  would  make  trouble  for  its  own  sake — or  to  see 
with  how  much  he  could  make  her  put  up;  each  was 
always  trying  the  limits  of  his  or  her  power  over  the 
other. 

The  actual  occasion  of  his  outburst  was,  as  usual, 
trivial,  and  perhaps — far  as  that  was  from  being  in- 
variably the  case — afforded  him  some  shadow  of  ex- 
cuse. Neither  did  Chat  help  matters.  He  had  sent 
up  from  Hatcham  Ford  a  bunch  of  splendid  yellow 
roses,  and,  when  he  came  to  dinner  the  same  evening, 
he  naturally  expected  to  see  them  on  the  table. 
"  Where  are  my  roses?  "  he  asked  abruptly,  when  we 
were  half-way  through  dinner. 

"  I  love  them — they're  beautiful — but  they  didn't 
suit  my  frock  to-night,"  said  Jenny,  smiling.  She 
would  have  managed  the  matter  all  right  if  she  had 
been  let  alone,  but  Chat  must  needs  put  her  oar  in. 

"  They'll  look  splendid  on  the  table  to-morrow 
night,"  she  remarked — as  though  she  were  saying 
something  soothing  and  tactful. 

"  Oh,  you've  got  a  dinner-party  to-morrow?  "  he 
asked — 'Still  calm,  but  growing  dangerous. 


THE    FLICK    OF    A    WHIP  103 

"  Nobody  you'd  care  about,"  Jenny  assured  him; 
she  had  given  Chat  a  look  which  immediately  pro- 
duced symptoms  of  flutters. 

"  Who's  coming?  " 

'  Oh,  only  Lord  Fillingford  and  Lady  Sarah,  the 
Wares,  the  Rector,  the  Aspenicks,  and  one  or  two 


more." 


'  H'm.  My  roses  are  good  enough  for  that  lot,  but 
I'm  not,  eh?" 

Jenny's  hand  was  forced;  Chat  had  undermined 
her  position.  Not  even  for  the  sake  of  policy  did 
she  love  to  do  an  unhandsome  thing — still  less  to 
be  found  out  in  doing  one.  To  use  the  roses  and 
slight  the  donor  would  not  be  handsome.  She 
knew  Aspenick's  objection  to  meeting  Octon,  but 
probably  she  thought  that  she  could  keep  Aspenick 
in  order. 

"  I  had  no  idea  you'd  care  about  it.  I  thought  you 
liked  coming  quietly  better.  I  like  it  so  much  better 
when  I  can  have  you  to  myself." 

No  use  now!  His  prickles  were  out;  he  would  not 
be  cajoled. 

"  So  I  may  as  a  rule — but  it's  rather  marked  when 
you  never  ask  me  to  meet  anyone." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you  at  dinner  to-mor- 
row," said  Jenny.  "  Will  you  come?  " 

'  Yes,  I  will  come — I  hope  I  know  how  to  behave 
myself,  don't  I?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  know  well  enough,"  she  answered, 
delicately  emphasizing  the  difference  between  knowl- 
edge and  practice.  "  All  right,  I  shall  expect  you." 

'  I  know  the  meaning  of  it.  That  little  Aspenick 


io4  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

minx  and  her  fool  of  a  husband  are  trying  to  get  me 
boycotted — that's  it." 

Jenny,  as  her  wont  was,  tried  to  smooth  him  down, 
but  with  little  success.  He  went  off  early,  still  very 
sulky,  and  growling  about  the  Aspenicks.  For  what 
it  is  worth,  there  was  no  doubt  that  they  were  now 
busy  leaders  in  the  cabal  against  him,  and  he  knew  it. 

"  It  won't  be  very  pleasant,  but  we  must  carry  it 
off  with  brave  faces,"  said  Jenny,  referring  to  the 
next  day's  dinner.  She  looked  vexed,  though,  at  this 
crossing  of  her  arrangements. 

Probably  the  dinner  would  have  passed  off  toler- 
ably, if  not  comfortably — for  Aspenick  was  a  gentle- 
man, and  even  Octon  might  feel  that  he  ought  to  be 
on  his  good  behavior — when  his  temper  recovered. 
But  unluckily  his  temper  had  not  recovered  by  eleven 
o'clock  the  following  morning,  and  it  was  then  that 
the  lamentable  thing  happened. 

I  had  finished  my  after-breakfast  work  with  Jenny 
and  had  left  the  house,  to  go  down  the  hill  to  the 
Old  Priory.  The  road  through  the  park  crosses  the 
path  I  had  to  follow,  at  about  seventy  yards  from 
the  house.  Approaching  this  road,  I  saw  Lady  Aspen- 
ick's  tandem  coming  along  on  my  right.  She  was, 
as  I  have  said  before,  an  accomplished  whip,  and 
tandem-driving  was  a  favorite  pastime  of  hers.  To- 
day she  appeared  to  be  trying  a  new  leader;  at  any 
rate  the  animal  was  very  skittish,  now  rearing,  now 
getting  out  of  line,  now  sidling  along — doing  any- 
thing, in  fact,  but  his  plain  duty.  She  was  driving 
slowly  and  carefully,  while  the  two  grooms  were  half- 
standing,    half-kneeling    behind,    looking    over    her 


THE    FLICK    OF   A   WHIP  105 

shoulders  and  evidently  ready  to  jump  down  and  run 
to  the  leader's  head  at  any  moment.  I  stood  watch- 
ing their  progress;  it  was  pretty  to  see  her  drive. 
Then  I  became  aware  of  Octon's  massive  figure  com- 
ing from  the  opposite  direction;  he  was  walking  full 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  which  at  this  point  is  not 
very  broad — just  wide  enough  for  two  carriages  to 
pass  one  another  between  the  banks,  which  rise 
sharply  on  either  side  to  the  height  of  nearly  three 
feet. 

As  Lady  Aspenick  drew  nearer  to  Octon,  one  of 
the  grooms  whistled.  Octon  gave  way — a  little.  Ap- 
parently the  groom — whether  Lady  Aspenick  spoke 
to  him  or  not  I  could  not  see — thought  that  there 
was  not  yet  room  enough,  for  he  whistled  again, 
waving  his  hand  impatiently.  Octon  edged  a  little 
more  to  the  side  of  the  road  and  then  stood  still, 
apparently  waiting  for  them  to  pass.  He  was  by  no 
means  at  the  side  of  the  road — neither  was  he  now 
in  the  middle;  perhaps  he  was  a  third  of  the  way 
across;  and,  so  far  as  I  could  judge,  there  was  room 
for  them  to  pass — and  a  sufficient  margin,  at  any 
rate  for  a  steady  team.  Now  the  groom  shouted — 
a  loud  "  Hi!  "  or  some  such  word — in  a  peremptory 
way.  I  heard  Octon's  reply  plainly.  "  There's  plenty 
of  room,  I  tell  you."  Lady  Aspenick  had  her  whip  in 
her  hand — ready,  no  doubt,  to  give  her  restless  leader 
a  flick  to  make  him  mind  his  manners  as  they  went 
by.  While  this  happened,  I  had  begun  to  walk  on 
again  slowly,  meaning  to  speak  to  Octon  when  the 
lady  had  passed.  I  was  about  fifteen  yards  away — and 
the  tandem  was  just  approaching  where  Octon  stood. 


106  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Just  as  she  came  up  to  him,  Lady  Aspenick  loosed  the 
long  lash  of  her  whip;  it  flew  out  and  I  looked  to 
see  a  jump  from  the  leader,  who  was  dancing  and 
capering  in  a  very  restive  way.  But  unless  she  took 
great  care — or  Octon  moved  a  bit 

The  next  instant,  while  the  idea  was  till  incomplete 
in  my  mind,  the  end  of  the  lash  caught  him  full  on 
the  face.  He  jumped  back  with  a  shout  of  rage.  The 
leader  gave  a  wild  plunge  toward  the  other  side  of 
the  road;  the  cart  swayed  and  rocked.  The  grooms 
leaped  down  and  ran  as  hard  as  they  could  to  the 
leader's  head.  Octon  sprang  forward,  caught  hold  of 
the  whip,  wrenched  it  from  Lady  Aspenick's  hand, 
almost  pulling  her  out  of  her  seat,  broke  it  in  the 
middle  across  his  knee,  and  flung  the  fragments  down 
on  the  road.  I  ran  up  hastily. 

"  You  did  that  on  purpose,"  he  said,  his  voice 
shaking  with  rage.  There  was  a  red  streak  across  his 
face  from  the  cheek  bone  to  the  chin. 

She  was  pale,  but  she  looked  at  him  calmly  through 
her  eyeglasses. 

"  Nonsense,"  she  answered,  "  but  if  I  had,  it  would 
have  been  only  your  deserts.  Why  didn't  you  give  me 


room 


?" 


"  There  was  plenty  of  room  if  you  knew  how  to 
drive;  and,  if  you  wanted  more,  you  could  have  asked 
for  it  civilly." 

"  You  must  have  seen  I  had  a  young  horse."  She 
turned  to  me.  "  Give  me  my  whip,  please,  Mr.  Austin. 
You  saw  what  happened?  I'll  ask  my  husband  to  come 
and  see  you  about  it."  Then  she  ordered  her  men 
to  take  out  the  refractory  leader,  and  lead  him  home; 


THE    FLICK    OF   A    WHIP  107 

she  would  drive  back  with  the  wheeler.  She  took  no 
more  notice  of  Octon,  nor  he  of  her  (unless  to  watch 
her  grooms'  proceedings  with  a  sullen  stare),  but 
as  she  started  off,  holding  the  broken  butt  of  the 
whip  in  her  hand,  she  called  to  me,  "  Tell  Miss  Driver 
we're  looking  forward  to  dinner  to-night." 

The  grooms  had  looked  dangerously  at  Octon,  and 
were  now  saying  something  to  one  another;  but  it 
needed  at  least  one  to  hold  the  horse,  and  Octon 
would  be  far  more  than  a  match  for  either  of  them 
singly.  His  angry  eyes  seemed  only  to  hope  that  they 
would  give  him  some  excuse  for  violence. 

"  Follow  your  mistress,"  I  said  to  them.  "  It's  no 
affair  of  yours." 

I  think  that  they  were  glad  to  get  my  sanction  for 
their  retreat.  Off  they  went,  and  I  was  left  alone  with 
Octon. 

"  If  it  had  been  a  man,  I  wouldn't  have  left  a  whole 
bone  in  his  body.  She  struck  me  deliberately — on  pur- 
pose." 

"  It  wasn't  a  man.  Why  didn't  you  give  her  more 
room?  " 

'  There  was  plenty  of  room?  "  he  persisted.  "  The 
whole  road  isn't  hers,  is  it?  "  With  that  he  turned  on 
his  heel  and  sauntered  off  toward  the  south  gate,  in 
the  direction  of  his  own  house. 

There  was  the  incident — and  I  had  the  grave  mis- 
fortune of  being  the  only  independent  witness  of  it. 
There  was  the  incident — and  there  was  the  dinner- 
party in  the  evening,  to  which  both  the  Aspenicks 
and  Leonard  Octon  were  bidden.  Clearly  the  matter 
could  not  stand  where  it  was;  it  was,  alas!  no  less 


108  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

clear  that  I  should  have  to  give  my  evidence.  Of 
course  the  meeting  at  dinner  must  not  take  place; 
whatever  else  might  or  might  not  follow  from  the 
affair,  that  much  was  certain.  I  went  back  to  the 
house  and  asked  to  see  Jenny. 

I  told  her  the  story  plainly  and  fully — all  that  I  had 
seen  and  all  that  had  been  said;  she  did  not  interrupt 
me  once. 

"  There  it  is,"  I  ended.  "  His  case  is  that  he  gave 
her  plenty  of  room  and  that  she  purposely  lashed  him 
over  the  face.  Hers  is  that  he  gave  her  too  little  room, 
deliberately  annoying  her,  that  her  leader  was  restive 
and  she  had  to  use  her  whip,  and  that,  if  she  hit  him, 
it  was  his  own  fault  for  standing  where  he  did." 

"  His  snatching  away  the  whip  and  breaking  it — 
isn't  that  bad?"  she  asked.  "  Or  if  he  thought  she 
meant  to  hit  him?  " 

"  Then  it's  still  bad,  I  suppose,  since  she's  a 
woman;  but  it's  perhaps  understandable — above  all  in 
him." 

"  Well,  what's  your  own  opinion  about  it?  " 

"  That's  just  what  I  don't  want  to  give,"  I  ob- 
jected. 

"  But  you  must.  I  have  to  come  to  some  decision 
about  this." 

"  Well,  then — I  think  he  did  leave  her  room — 
enough  and  a  little  more  than  enough;  but  I  also 
think  that  he  meant  to  annoy  her.  I'm  sure  he  didn't 
mean  to  put  her  in  danger  of  an  upset,  but  I  do 
think  that,  with  such  a  horse  as  she  was  driving,  an 
upset  might  have  been  the  result,  and  he  ought  to 
have  thought  of  that — only  he  doesn't  know  much 


THE    FLICK    OF   A   WHIP  109 

about  horses.  On  the  other  hand  I  don't  think  she 
deliberately  made  up  her  mind  to  hit  him — but  I 
do  think  she  meant  to  go  as  near  to  it  as  she  could 
without  actually  doing  it;  I  think  she  meant  to  make 
him  jump.  That's  about  my  idea  of  the  truth  of  the 
matter." 

"  Yes,  I  daresay,"  she  said  thoughtfully.  "  When 
Sir  John  comes  to  you,  bring  him  straight  up  here. 
They  mustn't  meet  to-night,  of  course,  but  I  should 
like  to  see  Sir  John  first — if  he  comes  this  morning 
or  soon  after  lunch." 

"  It's  all  very  tiresome,"  said  I  lugubriously. 

She  suddenly  put  her  hands  in  mine — in  one  of  her 
moments  of  impulse.  "  Oh,  yes,  yes,  dear  friend !  "  she 
murmured  with  an  acute  note  of  distress  in  her  voice. 
Tiresome  as  the  affair  was,  it  hardly  seemed  to  call  for 
that ;  but  I  had  not  yet  realized  her  position  in  its  full 
difficulty;  I  did  not  know  what  every  new  proof  of 
Octon's  "  impossibility  "  meant  to  her. 

Sir  John  arrived,  hot-haste,  before  lunch.  Happily 
Fillingford  was  with  him.  I  say  happily,  for  I  gathered 
that  the  angry  husband's  first  intention  had  been  to  go 
straight  to  Hatcham  Ford  and  undertake  the  horse- 
whipping of  Leonard  Octon — which  enterprise  must 
have  ended  in  broken  bones  for  Sir  John,  and  probably 
the  police  court  for  both  combatants.  Fillingford  hap- 
pened to  be  with  him  when  Lady  Aspenick  arrived  at 
home  and  told  her  story;  with  difficulty  he  dissuaded 
Aspenick  from  violent  measures;  above  all,  nothing 
must  get  into  the  papers ;  all  the  same,  it  was  a  case  for 
decisive  private  action.  According  to  my  orders  I  took 
Sir  John  up  to  Jenny,  and  Fillingford  came  with  us. 


no  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

There — before  her — we  had  the  whole  story  over 
again.  Sir  John  told  his  wife's  version,  I  put  Octon's 
forward  against  it — if  only  for  fair  play's  sake.  Sir 
John  naturally  would  have  none  of  Octon's,  nor  would 
Fillingford.  Then  I  repeated  my  own  impression  of  the 
affair.  Any  points  in  it  which  made  for  Octon  Sir  John 
violently  rejected;  Fillingford's  attitude  was  wiser,  the 
position  he  took  up  less  open  to  the  charge  of  preju- 
dice ;  he  disliked  Octon  intensely,  but  he  would  not  rest 
his  case  on  the  weak  foundation  of  an  angry  temper. 

"  I'm  quite  content  to  accept  Mr.  Austin's  view  of 
the  facts,  which  he  has  given  us  so  clearly  and  so  im- 
partially. Where  does  his  view  lead?  Why  to  this — 
Not  only  was  Mr.  Octon  inexcusably  violent  at  the 
end,  but  he  was  the  original  aggressor.  He  did  not,  Mr. 
Austin  is  convinced,  mean  to  cause  danger  to  Lady 
Aspenick,  but  he  did  mean  to  cause  her  vexation — in 
fact  to  offer  her  an  affront.  In  my  opinion  anything 
on  her  part  that  followed  is  imputable  to  his  own  fault, 
and  he  had  no  title  to  resent  it.  I  base  my  decision  not 
on  Lady  Aspenick's  account,  but  on  Mr.  Austin's  in- 
dependent testimony;  and  I  say  that  Mr.  Octon  be- 
haved as  no  gentleman  and  as  no  good  neighbor 
should." 

Jenny  had  listened  to  all  the  stories  in  silence,  and 
in  silence  also  she  heard  Fillingford's  summing-up. 
Now  she  looked  at  him  and  asked  briefly,  "  What 
follows?" 

"  It  follows  that  he  must  be  cut,"  interposed  As- 
penick in  dogged  anger. 

"  We  have  a  right  to  protect  ourselves — above  all 
the  ladies  of  our  families — from  the  chance  of  such 


THE    FLICK    OF   A    WHIP  in 

occurrences.  They  mustn't  be  exposed  to  them  if  we 
can  help  it;  they  certainly  need  not  and  must  not  be 
exposed  to  the  unpleasantness  of  meeting  the  man  who 
causes  them.  We  have  a  right  to  act  on  that  line — and 
I,  for  one,  feel  bound  to  act  on  it,  Miss  Driver." 

"  Not  a  man  in  the  place  will  do  anything  else,"  de- 
clared Aspenick. 

But  I  was  wondering  what  Jenny  would  do.  Almost 
without  disguise  they  were  presenting  to  her  an  ulti- 
matum. They  were  saying,  "  If  you  want  him,  you 
can't  have  us.  We  can't  come  where  he  comes.  Is  he  to 
go  on  coming  to  Breysgate  ?  Is  he  to  go  on  using  your 
park?"  She  did  not  like  dictation — nor  did  she  like 
sending  her  friends  away.  To  send  them  away  on  dic- 
tation— would  she  do  that  ?  Or  would  she  fall  into  one 
of  her  rages,  bid  them  all  go  hang,  and  throw  in  her 
lot  with  boycotted  Octon?  She  turned  to  me. 

"  Do  you  agree  with  what  these  gentlemen  say?  ' 
she  asked. 

In  the  end  I  liked  Octon  or,  at  any  rate,  found  him 
very  interesting,  and  I  was  therefore  ready,  for  myself, 
to  put  up  with  his  tempers  and  his  tantrums.  People 
who  did  not  like  him  nor  find  him  interesting  could 
not  be  asked  to  do  that.  And  he  stood  condemned  on 
my  own  evidence. 

"  They  are  quite  within  their  rights,"  I  had  to 
answer. 

She  was  not  in  a  rage;  she  was  anxious  and  dis- 
tressed. Nor  was  the  anxiety  all  hers.  Aspenick  indeed 
had  at  the  moment  no  thought  but  of  anger  on  his 
wife's  account,  but  Fillingford  must  have  had  other 
things  in  his  mind.  To  put  it  at  the  lowest,  he  valued 


ii2  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

his  acquaintance  with  the  mistress  of  Breysgate  Pri- 
ory; there  were  good  grounds  for  guessing  that  he 
valued  it  very  much.  If  he  had  learned  anything  at  all 
about  her,  he  must  have  known  that  he  was  risk- 
ing it  now.  But  he  showed  no  hesitation;  he  awaited 
her  answer  with  a  grave  deference  which  declared  the 
importance  he  attached  to  it  but  gave  no  reason  to  hope 
that  his  own  course  of  action  could  be  affected,  what- 
ever the  answer  might  be. 

Neither  did  she  give  the  impression  of  hesitating — 
it  was  not  exactly  that.  Whether  in  her  heart  she 
hesitated  I  cannot  tell;  if  she  did,  she  would  not  let 
them  see  it.  Her  demeanor  betrayed  nothing  more 
than  a  pained  reluctance  to  condemn  utterly,  to  rec- 
ognize that  one  who  had  been  received  as  a  friend 
and  as  a  gentleman  had  by  his  own  fault  forfeited 
his  claim  to  those  titles.  Her  delay  in  giving  her  de- 
cision— for  the  real  question  now  was  whether  she 
would  join  in  Octon's  ostracism — did  not  impugn 
their  judgment  nor  seem  to  weigh  their  merits 
against  the  culprit's.  It  did  not  declare  a  doubt  of 
their  being  right;  it  said  only  with  what  pain  she 
would  recognize  that  they  were  right. 

"  Yes — it's  the  only  thing,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  I  was  sure  you  would  agree  with  us — painful  as 
such  a  course  is,"  Fillingford  said. 

"  It's  only  cutting  a  cad,"  Aspenick  grumbled,  half 
under  his  breath.  Jenny  did  not  or  would  not  hear 
him. 

The  bargain  was  struck,  and  fully  understood  with- 
out more  words.  Jenny's  friends  must  not  be  exposed 
to  meeting  Octon  at  Breysgate  or  in  Breysgate  park. 


THE    FLICK    OF   A   WHIP  113 

They  would  be  strangers  to  Octon;  if  Jenny  would 
be  their  friend,  she  must  be  a  stranger  to  him.  Drop- 
ping Octon  was  the  condition  of  holding  her  place 
in  their  society.  She  understood  the  condition  and 
accepted  it.  There  was  no  more  to  be  said. 

They  took  leave  and  she  did  not  ask  them  to 
stay  to  lunch.  Her  farewell  to  Aspenick  was  cold, 
though  she  made  a  civil  reference  to  seeing  him  again 
at  dinner — nothing  was  said  about  Octon  in  that 
connection!  But  toward  Fillingford  she  showed  a 
marked,  if  subdued,  graciousness.  Clearly  she  meant 
to  convey  to  him  that,  distressed  as  she  was  by  the 
incident  and  its  necessary  consequences,  she  attached 
no  blame  to  him  for  the  part  he  had  taken — nay,  was 
grateful  to  him  for  his  counsel  and  guidance. 

"  I  never  had  any  doubt  of  your  coming  to  a 
right  decision,"  he  told  her,  holding  her  hand  for  a 
moment  longer  than  he  need.  She  looked  into  his 
eyes,  but  said  nothing;  she  gave  the  air  of  being 
heartily  content  to  surrender  her  judgment  to  his. 

I  saw  them  off  and  came  back  to  her.  She  was  still 
standing  in  the  same  place,  looking  very  thoughtful 
and  frowning  slightly;  it  was  by  no  means  the  trust- 
ful expression  with  which  her  eyes  had  dwelt  on 
Fillingford's. 

"  Directly  after  lunch  I  must  go  down  to  Hatcham 
Ford  and  see  Mr.  Octon.  I  want  you  to  come  with 


me. 


"I?  Not  Miss  Chatters?" 

"  You — not  Chat.  Don't  be  stupid,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER    VIII 


A    SECRET   TREATY 


JENNY'S  first  remark  as  we  drove  down  together 
to  Hatcham  Ford  seemed  to  have  very  little  to 
do  with  the  matter  in  hand.  Still  less  to  do 
with  it,  as  one  would  think,  had  the  fact  that,  just  be- 
fore starting,  she  had — I  learned  it  afterwards — given 
Chat  a  piece  of  handsome  old  lace. 

"  I  like  your  name,"  she  remarked.  "  '  Austin  Aus- 
tin ' — quite  a  good  idea  of  your  parents'  !  One's  only 
got  to  drop  the  '  Mr.'  to  be  friendly  at  once.  No 
learning  a  strange  Algernon,  or  Edward,  or  things 
of  that  kind!" 

"  Do  drop  it,"  said  I. 

"  I  have,  Austin,"  said  Jenny.  She  edged  ever  so 
little  nearer  to  me,  yet  looked  steadily  out  of  the 
window  on  the  other  side  of  the  brougham.  "  I'm 
frightened,"  she  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  said  I,  "  I  don't  wonder  at  it." 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  a  remarkable  kindness, 
a  gentleness,  almost  an  appealing  attitude,  which 
Jenny  displayed  during  several  weeks  that  followed. 
I  must  not  flatter  myself — Chat  shared  the  rays  of 
kindly  sunshine.  If  I  were  promoted  to  the  Christian 
name,  Chat  got  the  lace. 

114 


A    SECRET    TREATY  115 

"  What  will  you  call  me? "  she  asked.  " '  Miss 
Driver  '  sounds — Say  '  Jenny  '  !  " 

"  Before  the  county?  Impossible!  " 

"  Well,  then,  when  we're  alone?  " 

"Shall  it  be  Lady  Jenny?  For  ourselves?" 

She  sighed  acquiescence.  "  You're  a  great  comfort 
to  me,"  she  added.  "  You'll  come  in,  won't  you,  if 
you  hear  me  scream?  " 

"Come  in?" 

"  I've  got  to  see  him  alone,  you  know."  She  raised 
her  hands  for  an  instant,  as  though  in  lamentation; 
Oh,  why  is  he  like  that?  " 

There  was  no  treating  this  lightly — for  one  who 
felt  for  her  what  I  did.  I  was  no  such  fool  as  not  to 
see  that  her  sudden  access  of  graciousness  had  a  pur- 
pose— I  had  to  be  conciliated  and  stroked  the  right 
way  for  some  reason;  so  doubtless  had  Chat.  But 
again  I  was,  so  I  humbly  trust,  no  such  churl  as  to 
resent  the  purpose — though  I  did  not  know  precisely 
what  it  was.  I  was  her  '  man,'  as  the  old  word  was 
— her  vassal.  If  my  liking  or  my  honor  refused  that 
situation,  well  and  good — I  could  end  it.  While  it 
lasted,  I  was  hers.  Within  me  the  thing  went  deeper 
still  than  that. 

She  was  frightened.  Therefore  she  was  very  gra- 
cious, seeking  allies  however  humble.  I  declare  that 
I  have  always  limited  my  expectation  of  attachments 
entirely  disinterested.  Are  there  any?  Who  cherishes  a 
friend  from  whom  there  is  neither  profit  nor  pleasure 
to  be  had?  Or,  at  any  rate,  from  whom  neither  has 
been  had?  The  past  obligation  is  often  acknowledged 
- — and  acquitted — with  a  five-pound  note. 


n6  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

The  westering  sun  caught  her  face  through  the 
window  as  we  entered  the  outskirts  of  Catsford;  her 
eyes  looked  like  a  couple  of  new  sovereigns. 

"  Yes,  I'm  frightened." 

"  Not  you!  You've  courage  enough  for  a  dozen." 

"Ah,  I  like  you  to  say  that!  But  I  must  make 
terms  with  him,  you  know."  She  caught  and  pressed 
my  hand.  "  But  I  don't  believe  I'm  quite  a  coward." 

All  this  could  mean  but  one  thing — Octon  had  a 
great  hold  on  her;  yet  against  him  was  a  power- 
ful incentive.  Between  the  two — between  his  power, 
which  was  great,  and  the  power  against  him  whose 
greatness  she  had  acknowledged  to  Fillingford  that 
morning,  she  must  patch  up  conditions  of  peace — a 
secret  treaty.  I  had  no  idea  what  the  terms  could  or 
would  be.  If  Octon  had  the  naming  of  them,  they 
would  not  be  easy. 

Hatcham  Ford  just  held  its  freedom  against  the 
encroaching  town.  No  more  than  fifty  yards  from  its 
gates  was  the  last  villa — -a  red-brick  house  of  eccen- 
tric architecture  but  comfortable  dimensions;  its  side 
windows  looked  toward  the  gate  of  the  Ford,  and 
on  the  left  its  garden  ran  up  to  the  road  on  to  which 
the  shrubberies  encircling  the  old  house  faced.  A  tall 
oak  fence  surrounded  the  garden — on  the  gate  was 
written,  in  large  gilt  letters,  "  Ivydene."  That  house, 
like  so  many  in  Catsford,  was  on  Jenny's  land.  I 
wished  that  Cartmell  would  keep  a  tighter  hand  on 
his  builders. 

Nearly  swallowed  by  the  flood  of  modern  erections 
as  it  was,  the  old  house  still  preserved  its  sequestered 
charm.  The  garden  was  hidden  from  the  road  by  a 


A    SECRET    TREATY  117 

close  screen  in  front;  at  the  back  it  ran  gently  down 
to  the  murmuring  river.  Within  were  low  ceilings 
crossed  by  old  beams,  and  oak  paneling  everywhere. 
Octon's  tenancy  and  personality  were  marked  by 
clusters  of  barbaric  spears  and  knives,  hung  against 
the  oak,  burnished  to  a  high  polish,  flashing  against 
their  time-blackened  background. 

Visitors  were  not  expected.  Octon's  man — a  small 
wizened  fellow  of  full  middle  age — seemed  rather 
startled  by  the  sight  of  Jenny;  he  hastily  pushed, 
rather  than  ushered,  us  into  the  dining  room,  a  room 
on  the  left  of  the  doorway.  In  a  moment  or  two 
Octon  came  to  us.  He  stood  in  the  doorway,  his  big 
frame  looking  immense  under  the  low  lintel  which 
his  head  all  but  touched. 

'  You're  not  the  visitors  I  expected,"  he  said  with 
a  laugh.  "  I've  stayed  in,  waiting  for  Aspenick." 

'  Sir  John  won't  come,"  said  Jenny.  "  But  I  must 
speak  to  you — alone."  She  turned  to  me.  "  You're 
sure  you  don't  mind,  Austin?  " 

'  Of  course  you  must  see  him  alone.  Where  shall 
I  go?" 

;<  Stay  here,"  he  said.  "  We'll  go  next  door — in  the 
study." 

He  held  the  door  for  her,  and  she  went  out.  I 
heard  them  enter  a  room  next  to  the  one  in  which 
I  was;  the  door  was  shut  after  them.  Then  for  a 
long  while  I  heard  nothing  more,  except  the  murmur 
of  the  little  river,  which  seemed  loud  to  my  unaccus- 
tomed ears,  though  probably  people  living  in  the 
house  would  soon  cease  to  notice  it. 

Presently  I  heard  their  voices;  his  was  so  loud  that, 


n8  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

for  fear  of  hearing  the  words,  I  had  deliberately  to 
abstract  my  mind  by  looking  at  this,  that,  and  the 
other  thing  in  the  room — more  spears  and  knives  on 
the  walls,  books  about  his  subject  on  the  shelves,  a 
couple  of  fine  old  silver  tankards  gleaming  on  the 
mantelpiece.  The  voices  died  down  again  just  as  I 
had  exhausted  the  interest  of  the  tankards,  and  taken 
in  my  hand  a  miniature  which  stood  on  the  top  of 
the  marble  clock. 

His  voice  fell  to  inaudibility;  the  welcome  silence 
left  me  alone  with  the  little  picture.  It  represented 
a  child  perhaps  fourteen  years  old — a  small,  deli- 
cate face,  dark  in  complexion,  touched  on  the  cheeks 
with  a  red  flush,  with  large  dark  eyes,  framed  in 
plentiful  black  hair  which  curled  about  the  forehead. 
Whoever  the  young  girl  was,  she  was  beautiful;  her 
eyes  seemed  to  gaze  at  me  from  some  remote  king- 
dom of  childish  purity;  her  lips  laughed  that  I  should 
feel  awe  at  her  eyes.  How  in  the  world  came  she  on 
Octon's  mantelpiece? 

Picked  up  somewhere  for  half  a  sovereign — as  a 
pretty  thing!  That  was  the  suggestion  of  common 
sense,  in  rebellion  against  a  certain  sense  of  over- 
strained nerves  under  which  I  was  conscious  of  suf- 
fering. Yet,  after  all,  Octon,  like  other  men,  must 
have  kith  and  kin.  The  style  of  the  picture  was  too 
modern  for  it  to  be  his  mother's.  There  were  such 
things  as  sisters;  but  this  did  not  look  like  Octon's 
stock.  An  old  picture  of  a  bygone  sweetheart — that 
held  the  field  as  the  likeliest  explanation;  well,  except 
the  one  profanely  offered  by  common  sense.  Octon 
was,  to  and  for  me,  so  much  a  part  of  Jenny's  life  and 


A    SECRET   TREATY  119 

surroundings  that  it  was  genuinely  difficult  to  realize 
him  as  a  man  with  other  belongings  or  associations; 
yet  I  could  not  but  recognize  that  in  all  probability 
he  had  many — perhaps  some  apart  from  those  which 
he  might  chance  to  have  inherited. 

Suddenly,  through  the  wall,  I  heard  a  wail — surely 
I  heard  a  little  sob?  The  picture  was  instantly  for- 
gotten. I  stood  intensely  awake,  alert,  watchful.  If 
that  sound  came  again,  I  determined  that  I  would 
break  in  on  their  conference.  For  minutes  I  waited, 
but  the  sound  came  no  more.  I  flung  myself  into  a 
chair  by  the  fire  and  began  to  smoke.  I  fell  into  a 
meditation.  No  further  sound  came  to  break  it;  the 
murmur  of  the  river  already  grew  familiar. 

I  heard  a  door  open;  the  next  moment  they  were 
in  the  room  with  me. 

'  What  a  time  we've  kept  you!  Have  you  been  very 
bored?  "  asked  Jenny. 

Her -words  and  her  tone  were  light,  but  her  face 
was  as  I  had  never  seen  it.  It  was  drawn  with  the 
fatigue  of  deep  feeling:  she  had  been  struggling;  if 
I  did  not  err,  her  eyes  bore  signs  of  crying — I  had 
never  known  her  cry.  At  that  moment  I  think  I 
knew  to  the  full  that  Octon  was,  for  good  or  evil, 
a  great  thing  in  her  life.  How  could  it  be  for  good? 
She  herself,  she  alone,  must  bear  the  burden  of  an- 
swering that  question. 

But  he,  standing  behind  her,  wore  an  unmistakable 
air  of  victory.  So  confident  was  it,  and  so  assured  the 
whole  aspect  of  his  dominant  figure,  that  I  prepared 
myself  to  hear  that  the  verdict  of  the  morning  was 
reversed  and   that  the  neighborhood — and   all   that 


i2o  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

meant — were  to  go  hang-.  Yet  his  first  words  con- 
tradicted both  my  forecast  and  his  own  appearance. 
He  spoke  in  a  chafing  tone. 

"  Behold  in  me,  Austin,  the  Banished  Duke!  Never 
again  may  I  tread  the  halls  of  Breysgate — at  any  rate, 
not  for  the  present!  I  have  offended  a  proud  baronet 
— a  belted  earl  demands  my  expulsion.  And  my  liege 
lady  banishes  me!  " 

"  Don't  be  so  silly,"  said  Jenny — but  gently,  ever 
so  gently,  and  with  a  smile. 

"  Serves  you  right,  in  my  opinion,"  said  I. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  he  answered,  "  and  I  bear  no 
malice.  I'm  glad  Aspenick  didn't  force  me  to  wring 
his  neck.  But  I  shall  be  very  lonely — nobody  comes 
here — well,  not  many  are  invited!  Will  you  drop  in 
on  the  exile  and  smoke  a  pipe  now  and  then  after 
dinner?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'll  look  you  up."  My  tone  was  impa- 
tient, I  know:  his  burlesque  was  neither  intelligible 
nor  grateful  to  me. 

"  After  dinner,  if  that  suits  you.  I'm  going  to  take 
advantage  of  my  solitude  to  work  in  the  daytime. 
The  door  will  be  barred  till  nine  o'clock." 

I  nodded — and  looked  at  my  watch. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jenny,  "  we  must  be  going.  Every- 
thing's settled,  Austin,  and — and  Mr.  Octon  has  been 
very  kind." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  anyhow,"  I  said  grumpily. 
If  he  had  been  kind,  why  had  I  heard  that  wail? 

In  fact  I  was  thoroughly  puzzled — and  therefore 
both  vexed  and  uneasy.  He  accepted  his  banishment 
— and  yet  was  friendly.  That  result  seemed  a  great 


A    SECRET    TREATY  121 

victory  for  Jenny — yet  she  did  not  look  victorious. 
It  was  Octon  who  wore  the  air  of  exultation  and  self- 
satisfaction;  yet  he  had  been  thrown  to  the  wolves, 
abandoned  to  the  pack  of  Fillingfords  and  Aspenicks. 
Well,  that  could  not  be  the  whole  truth  of  it,  though 
what  more  there  might  be  I  could  not  guess. 

He  came  with  us  down  the  gravel  path  which  led 
from  the  hall  door  to  the  road,  where  the  brougham 
was  waiting.  Jenny  pointed  across  the  road — where 
Ivydene  stood  with  its  strip  of  garden. 

"  That's  the  house  I  meant,  you  know,"  she  said, 
evidently  referring  to  something  that  had  passed  in 
their  private  conversation. 

He  stood  smiling  at  her,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  He  really  was,  for  him,  ridiculously  amiable, 
though  his  amiability,  like  everything  else  about  him, 
was  rough,  almost  boisterous. 

"  If  you  must  go  on  with  your  beastly  Institute," 
he  said,-"  and  msut  have  a  beastly  house  for  a  beastly 
office,  to  make  your  beastly  plans  and  do  your  other 
beastly  work  in,  why,  I  daresay  that  beastly  house 
will  do  as  well  as  any  other  beastly  house  for  your 
beastly  purpose.  Only  do  choose  beastly  clerks,  or 
whatever  they're  going  to  be,  who  haven't  got  any 
beastly  children  to  play  beastly  games  and  make  a 
beastly  noise  in  the  garden." 

Quite  the  first  I  had  heard  of  this  idea!  Ouite  the 
first  time,  too,  that  Leonard  Octon  had  been  so 
agreeable — he  meant  to  be  agreeable,  though  the 
humor  was  like  a  schoolboy's — about  the  Institute! 

"  I  think  I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Bindlecombe  about  it," 
said  Jenny,  as  she  gave  him  her  hand.  Her  farewell 


122  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

was  more  than  gracious;  it  was  grateful,  it  was  even 
appealing.  Nor  for  all  my  anger  and  vexation  could 
I  deny  the  real  feeling  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at 
her;  he  was  admiring;  he  was  affectionate;  nay  more, 
he  seemed  to  be  giving  her  his  thanks. 

She  was  very  silent  all  the  way  home,  answering 
only  by  a  "  yes  "  or  a  "  no  "  the  few  remarks  I  ven- 
tured to  make.  On  her  own  account  she  made  only 
one — as  the  result  of  a  long  reverie.  "  It'll  all  blow 
over  some  day,"  she  said. 

If  it  was  her  only  observation,  at  least  it  was  a 
characteristic  one.  Jenny  had  a  great  belief  in  things 
"  blowing  over  " — a  belief  that  inspired  and  explained 
much  of  her  diplomacy.  What  seemed  sometimes  in 
retrospect  to  have  been  far-sighted  scheming  or  elab- 
orate cunning  had  been  in  reality  no  more  than  wait- 
ing for  a  thing  to  "  blow  over  " — holding  the  balance, 
maintaining  an  artificial  equilibrium  by  a  number  of 
clever  manipulations,  until  things  should  right  them- 
selves and  gain,  or  regain,  a  proper  and  natural  basis. 
The  best  opinion  I  could  form  of  her  present  pro- 
ceedings was  that  they  rested  on  some  such  idea.  For 
the  moment  she  banned  Octon  under  the  pressure 
of  her  other  neighbors;  but  in  time  the  memory  of 
his  offenses  would  grow  dimmer — and  in  time  also 
her  own  position  and  power  would  be  more  firmly 
established.  Then  he  could  come  back.  She  might 
have  persuaded  him  into  good  humor  by  such  a  plea 
as  that.  If  it  were  so,  I  thought  that  she  had  mis- 
led him  and  perhaps  deceived  herself.  People  have 
long  memories  for  social  offenses.  And — one  could 
not  help  asking  the  question — what  of  Fillingford? 


A    SECRET    TREATY  123 

Where  was  he  to  fit  in,  what  part  was  he  to  play? 
Was  a  millennium  to  come  when  he  was  to  lie  down 
on  Jenny's  hearthrug  side  by  side  with  Octon? 

There  was  a  lady  too  many  at  dinner — a  man  short! 
Jenny  could  have  avoided  this  blot  on  her  arrange- 
ments by  eliminating  Chat — and  poor  Chat  was  quite 
accustomed  to  being  eliminated.  But  she  chose  not  to 
adopt  this  course.  I  rather  think  that  she  liked  to  feel 
herself  a  bit  of  a  martyr  in  the  matter,  but  possibly 
she  was  also  minded  to  make  a  little  demonstration 
of  her  submission,  to  let  them  guees  that  Octon  had 
been  coming  and  that  she  had  acted  on  their  orders 
with  merciless  promptitude.  In  other  respects  the 
party  was  one  of  her  most  successful.  Great  as  was 
the  strain  which  she  had  been  through  in  the  after- 
noon, she  herself  was  gay  and  sparkling.  And  how 
they  petted  her!  Lady  Aspenick  might  naturally  have 
looked  to  be  the  heroine  of  the  occasion — nor  had  she 
any  reason  to  complain  of  a  lack  of  interest  in  her 
story  (I  had  to  complain  of  a  great  deal  too  much 
interest  in  mine) — but  it  was  for  Jenny  that  the  high- 
est honors  were  reserved;  the  most  joy  was  over  the 
one  sinner  that  repented. 

Fillingford,  of  course,  took  her  in  to  dinner.  It  was 
not  in  the  man  to  pay  what  are  called  "  marked  at- 
tentions "  before  the  eyes  of  others,  but  his  manner 
to  her  was  characterized  by  a  pronounced  friendliness 
and  deference;  he  seemed  to  be  trying  to  atone  for 
the  coercion  which  he  had  been  compelled  to  exert 
earlier  in  the  day.  He  did  not  fall  into  the  mistake 
of  treating  her  acquiescence  as  a  trifle  or  the  case 
as  merely  that  of  "  cutting  a  cad,"  to  use  Aspenick's 


i24  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

curtly  contemptuous  phrase.  He  raised  her  action  to 
the  rank  of  an  obligation  conferred  on  her  neigh- 
bors and  especially  on  himself.  He  was  man  of 
the  world  enough  to  convey  this  impression  with- 
out departing  too  far  from  the  habitual  reserve  of 
his  demeanor. 

Lady  Aspenick  looked  at  the  pair  through  her  eye- 
glasses; we  had  at  last  exhausted  the  incident  of  the 
morning — though  we  had  not  settled  the  precise  de- 
gree of  accidentality  which  attached  to  the  collision 
between  her  whip  and  Octon's  face;  under  a  veiled 
cross-examination  she  had  become  rather  vague 
about  it — that  may  weigh  a  little  in  Octon's  favor. 

"  It's  a  long  while  since  I've  seen  Lord  Fillingford 
so  lively,"  she  remarked.  "  He  seems  to  get  on  so 
well  with  Miss  Driver.  As  a  rule,  you  know,  we 
women  despair  of  him." 

"  Has  he  such  a  bad  character  among  you  as  that?  ': 

"  He  seemed  to  have  given  himself  up  to  being  old 
long  before  he  need.  He's  only  forty-three,  I  think." 
She  laughed.  "  There,  in  my  heart  I  believe  I'm 
matchmaking,  like  a  true  woman!" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you  are.  Well,  these  speculations 
are  always  interesting." 

"  We're  beginning  to  make  them  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, I  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Austin." 

"  And — knowing  the  neighborhood — I  can  believe 
you,  Lady  Aspenick." 

"You've  no  special  information?"  she  asked, 
laughing.  "  It  would  make  me  so  important!  " 

"  Oh,  you're  important  enough  already — after  this 
morning.  And  I  know  nothing — absolutely  nothing." 


A    SECRET    TREATY  125 

"  You    mean    to    say    Miss    Driver    doesn't    tell 
you ?  " 


.. 


Actually  she  does  not — and  I'm  not  sure  I  should 
know  if  she  did." 

"  Of  course  I'm  only  chaffing-.  But  it  would  be 
rather — ideal." 

'  H'm.  Forty-three  may  not  be  senile,  but  would 
you  call  it  ideal?  For  a  romance?" 

"  Who's  talking  of  romances?  I'm  on  the  question 
of  marriage,  Mr.  Austin." 

'  But  if  one  can  afford  a  romance?  What's  the  use 
of  being  rich?  " 

"  No,  no,  it's  the  poor  people  who  can  go  in  for 
romance.  They've  nothing  to  lose!  Divide  nothing  a 
year  between  two — or,  presently,  four — and  still  it's 
no  less." 

"  But  the  rich  have  nothing  to  gain — except  ro- 


mance." 


"  Oh,  yes,  sometimes.  At  the  time  of  the  Corona- 
tion I  had  quite  a  quarrel  with  Jack  because  he  wasn't 
a  peer.  He  said  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  it  before, 
but  I  said  that  that  would  have  been  quite  disloyal." 
She  lowered  her  voice  to  a  discreet  whisper.  "  I  do 
hope  she's  not  distressed  about  this  morning?  " 

'  A  little,  I'm  afraid.  Octon  had  his  interesting  side 
for  her." 

'  I'm  so  sorry!  I  must  be  very  nice  to  her  after 
dinner." 

Lady  Aspenick  was  very  "  nice  "  to  Jenny  after 
dinner,  and  so  were  all  of  them.  She  seemed  to  take 
new  rank  that  evening — to  undergo  a  kind  of  in- 
formal but  very  real  adoption  into  the  inner  circle 


126  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

of  families  which  made  the  local  society.  She  was  no 
longer  a  stranger  entertaining  them;  she  had  become 
one  of  themselves.  This  could  not  all  be  reward  for 
ostracizing  Octon.  Lady  Aspenick's  conversation,  in 
itself  not  remarkable  for  depth  or  originality,  was  a 
surface  sign  of  another  current  of  opinion  bearing 
strongly  on  Jenny's  position.  But  no  doubt  acquies- 
cence in  the  ostracism  was  a  condition  precedent 
both  to  the  adoption  and  to  that  remoter  prospect 
which  inspired  it. 

Jenny's  eyes  were  very  clear.  After  they  had  all 
gone,  I  returned  to  the  drawing-room  to  bid  her  good 
night.  Chat  had  already  scuttled  off  to  bed — dinner 
parties  kept  her  up  later  than  was  to  her  liking.  Jenny 
was  leaning  her  elbow  on  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I've  been  good — and  I've  had 
my  sugar-plums." 

"  Yes,  and  they've  got  plenty  more  for  you  if  you 
go  on  being  good." 

"  Oh,  yes."  Her  voice  sounded  tired,  and  her  face 
looked  strained. 

"  Even  some  very  big  ones!  " 

Up  to  now  she  had  shown  no  sign  of  resenting  the 
pressure  put  upon  her;  she  had  been  sorrowful,  but 
had  displayed  no  anger.  She  did  not  even  now  chal- 
lenge the  justice  of  Fillingford's  decision;  but  she 
broke  out  into  a  rage  against  the  control  claimed  over 
herself. 

i  ■  They  force  me  to  things,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice, 
but  in  a  tone  full  of  feeling.  "  They  tell  me  I  must  do 
this  or  do  that,  or  else  I  can't  be  one  of  them,  I  can't 
rank  with  them,  I  can't,  I  suppose,  marry  Lord  Fil- 


A  SECRET  TREATY        12.7 

lingford!  Well,  I  yield  where  I  must,  but  some- 
times I  get  my  own  way  all  the  same.  Let  them 
look  out  for  that !  Yes,  I  get  my  own  way  in  the  end, 
Austin." 

"  No  doubt — not  that  I  know  what  is  your  way  in 
this  particular  matter." 

Her  little  outbreak  of  anger  passed  as  quickly  as 
it  had  come.  She  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  woe- 
ful smile. 

"  My  own  way!  So  one  talks.  What  is  one's  way? 
The  way  one  would  choose?  No — it's  generally  the 
way  one  has  to  tread.  It's  in  that  sense  that  I  shall 
get  my  own  way." 

"  You'll  try  for  it  in  the  other  sense,  though,  I 
fancy." 

"  Yes,  perhaps  I  shall — and  I  shan't  try  less  be- 
cause Lord  Fillingford  and  the  Aspenicks  either  scold 
or  pet  me." 

"  Well,  but  it's  hardly  reasonable  to  expect  to  have 
things  both  ways,  is  it?  " 

She  came  to  me,  laughing,  and  took  hold  of  my 
hands:  "  But  if  I  choose  to  have  them  both  ways, 
sir?  "  she  asked. 

"  Then,  of  course,"  said  I,  "  the  case  is  different." 

"  I  will  have  them  both  ways,"  said  Jenny. 

"  You  can't." 

"See  if  I  don't!"  she  cried  in  merry  defiance. 
"  Only,  mind  you,  not  a  word  of  it — to  the  county!  " 
She  pressed  my  hands  and  let  them  go.  "  Oh,  I'm  so 
tired!" 

:'  Stop  thinking — do  stop  thinking — and  go  to 
sleep." 


i28  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

She  nodded  at  me  kindly  and  reassuringly  as  Loft 
came  in  to  put  out  the  lights.  I  left  her  standing  there 
in  her  rich  frock,  with  her  jewels  gleaming,  yet  with 
her  eyes  again  weary  and  mournful.  She  had  had  a 
bad  day  of  it,  for  all  her  triumph  in  the  evening. 
Trying  to  have  it  both  ways  was  hard  work. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    INSTITUTE    CLERK 

MR.  BINDLECOMBE  was  jubilant.  Jenny's 
vacillations  were  over — the  Institute  was 
really  on  the  way.  A  Provisional  Commit- 
tee had  been  formed;  it  was  composed  of  Bindle- 
combe  (in  the  Chair,  in  virtue  of  his  office  of  Mayor, 
which  he  still  held),  Fillingford,  Cartmell,  Alison  the 
Rector  of  the  old  parish  church,  and  Jenny.  I  was 
what  I  believe  they  term  in  business  circles  "  alter- 
nate "  with — or  to? — Jenny;  when  she  could  not  at- 
tend, I  was  to  act  and,  if  need  be,  vote  in  her  place. 
As  a  fact,  I  generally  went  even  when  she  did.  Since 
the  Institute  was  to  serve  for  women  as  well  as  for 
men,  a  subsidiary  and  advisory  Ladies'  Committee 
was  formed — and  Lady  Sarah  Lacey  was  induced  to 
accept  the  chairmanship  of  it.  Jenny  was  justifiably 
proud  of  this  triumph;  but  the  Ladies'  Committee 
had  nothing  to  do  with  finance,  and  finance  was,  of 
course,  the  question  of  paramount  interest,  in  the 
early  stages  at  least.  The  original  ten  thousand 
pounds  which  I  had  allocated  to  the  Memorial  Hall 
looked  a  mere  trifle  now.  The  talk  was  of  eighty 
thousand — with  a  hundred  thousand  for  a  top  limit. 
Over  these  figures  Cartmell  looked  important,  but 

129 


130  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

not  outraged — evidently  the  Driver  estate  was  shap- 
ing well.  But  it  was,  as  Jenny  remarked,  impossible  to 
be  precise  on  the  subject  of  figures,  until  we  had  more 
definite  ideas  about  what  we  wanted  to  do.  Plans 
were,  she  declared,  the  first  necessity — provisional 
plans,  at  all  events — and  she  was  for  having  them 
drawn  up  at  once.  Bindlecombe  was  in  no  way  re- 
luctant, but  opined  that  plans  depended  largely  on 
site;  must  not  the  question  of  site  be  taken  in  hand 
simultaneously?  Jenny  replied  that  Mr.  Bindlecombe 
had  so  convinced  her  of  the  unique  suitability  of 
Hatcham  Ford  that  she  was  in  negotiation  with  Mr. 
Octon.  Cartmell  looked  a  trifle  surprised — I  do  not 
think  that  he  had  heard  of  these  negotiations.  Jenny 
added  that  in  two  years'  time  she  would  be  free  to 
act  of  her  own  will;  but  in  the  first  place  two  years 
was  long  to  wait,  and  in  the  second  she  was  anxious 
to  deal  with  Mr.  Octon  in  a  friendly  spirit.  There  was 
a  feeling  that  this  was  carrying  neighborliness  too 
far,  but  Fillingford,  content  with  what  Jenny  had  al- 
ready done  in  regard  to  Octon,  came  to  her  help, 
pronouncing  that  the  diplomatic  way  was  expedient: 
No  excuse  for  any  opposition  should  be  given;  you 
could  never  tell  who  might  or  might  not,  for  his  own 
purposes,  get  up  a  party.  If  Mr.  Octon  proved  un- 
approachable— he  chose  the  word  with  care  and  gave 
it  with  a  neutral  impassiveness — it  would  be  time 
enough  to  talk  of  rights. 

"  We  can  begin  on  something  at  once,"  Jenny  de- 
clared. "  I'm  going  to  ask  Mr.  Cartmell  to  make 
arrangements  to  put  a  house  at  our  disposal  for  of- 
fices.  We   should   hold   our  meetings   there,    and   I 


THE    INSTITUTE    CLERK  131 

should  propose  to  employ  a  clerk  to  keep  our  records 
and,  as  time  goes  on,  to  help  with  the  plans  and  so 
on."  She  turned  to  Bindlecombe.  "  You  know  that 
house  next  to  Hatcham  Ford — a  new  red  house? 
It's  got  very  good  windows  and  an  open  outlook. 
Wouldn't  that  do  for  us?  I  forget  the  name — some- 
thing rather  absurd." 

"  Ivydene,"  said  Cartmell.  He  had  every  detail  of 
her  property  at  his  finger  ends. 

"  Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Jenny,  with  a  nod  of  recollec- 
tion. 

Everybody  approved  of  Ivydene  for  the  suggested 
purpose,  and  the  Committee  broke  up  with  the  usual 
expressions  of  gratitude  to  and  admiration  of  Miss 
Driver.  "  She  does  things  so  handsomely — and  with 
such  head,  too!  "  said  Bindlecombe. 

I  walked  away  with  Alison,  the  Rector,  for  whom  I 
had  a  great  liking.  He  was  a  fine  fellow,  physically 
and  mentally — a  tall,  strong-built  man  of  forty,  with 
a  keen  blue  eye.  He  had  "  done  wonders,"  as  they 
say,  in  Catsford  and  was  on  the  sure  road  to  promo- 
tion— if  he  would  take  it.  He  was  sincere,  pious,  and 
humble;  but  his  humility  was  personal.  It  did  not 
extend  to  his  office  or  to  the  claims  of  the  Church 
he  represented. 

He  asked  me  if  I  would  lay  before  Jenny  the  merits 
of  a  fund  he  was  raising  to  build  yet  another  new 
district  church,  to  meet  the  ever  growing  needs  of 
Catsford.  I  replied  that  I  had  no  doubt  she  would  be 
glad  to  give  a  donation. 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  said  Alison — but  his  tone  did 
not  sound  contented. 


i32  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  She's  sure  to  give  something  substantial — she's 
like  her  father  in  that." 

"  In  the  way  of  money  I  had  nothing  to  complain 
of  from  Mr.  Driver.  Anything  else  I  suppose  you'll 
tell  me  I  couldn't  expect,  as  he  was  a  Unitarian." 

"  I  remember  he  used  to  say  he'd  been  brought  up 
a  Unitarian." 

"  That's  what  we  seem  to  be  coming  to!  When  it's 
a  question  of  a  man's  religion,  you  remember  what 
he  used  to  say  he  was  brought  up  as!  "  Alison's  tone 
became  sarcastic.  "  Well,  then,  his  daughter's  a 
Church-woman,  isn't  she — by  the  same  excellent  evi- 
dence? " 

"  She  lived  five  years  in  a  clergyman's  family,"  I 
answered  discreetly — feeling  that  it  was  safer  to  stick 
to  indisputable  facts.  "  She  attends  church  fairly 
often,  doesn't  she?  " 

"  Yes,  fairly  often."  He  repeated  my  words  with  a 
contemptuous  grimace.  "  People  who  attend  church 
fairly  often,  Austin,  are  the  people  whom,  if  the  good 
old  days  could  come  back,  I  should  like  to  burn." 

"  Of  course  you  would.  You  all  would,  if  you  dared 
say  so." 

"  Just  two  or  three  to  start  with.  I  should  like  it 
done  very  conspicuously — in  the  market  place." 

"  The  worst  of  it  is  that  you're  really  quite  sincere 
in  all  this." 

He  pressed  my  arm.  "  I  don't  want  to  burn  you. 
You've  thought,  though  you've  thought  wrong.  And 
you've  been  through  tribulation.  It's  the  people  who 
in  their  hearts  just  don't " 

"  Care  a  damn?  "  I  profanely  suggested. 


THE    INSTITUTE    CLERK  133 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed  with  a  laugh  and  a  grip  on  my 
wrist  which  distinctly  hurt. 

'  But  I  don't  think  Miss  Driver's  quite  one  of 
those.  At  any  rate  she's  intellectually  interested — 
talks  about  things,  and  so  on." 

He  nodded.  "  Yes,  I  daresay.  Well,  she's  a  remark- 
able girl.  Look  here — she's  worth  having,  and  I'm 
going  to  try  to  get  hold  of  her." 

"  You  never  will,  though  you  try  for  ever — not  in 
your  sense.  She  never  surrenders." 

"  Not  even  to  God?  " 

"  Speaking  through  you?  " 

"  Through  my  office — yes." 

"Aye,  there's  the  rub!  Besides — well,  I  can't  dis- 
cuss her  from  a  moral  point  of  view;  any  information 
I  may  have  seems  somehow  to  have  been  acquired 
confidentially." 

"  That's  quite  right,  Austin." 

'  I'll'  only  put  before  you  a  general  suggestion. 
Doesn't  our  disposition  determine  our  attitude  to 
these  things  much  oftener  than  our  attitude  is  shaped 
by  our  opinions?  Hence  individual  modifications — 
variations  from  the  general  trend,  whatever  that  may 
be.  What  a  man — or  woman — is  in  worldly  relations, 
isn't  he  apt  to  be  in  regard  to  religious  affairs?  If  a 
man  thinks  for  himself  in  worldly  affairs " 

"  I'm  not  against  thought,"  he  broke  in.  "  That's 
the  eternal  misunderstanding!" 

'  But  so  often  against  the  results  of  it?  "  I  sug- 
gested. "  And  one  reason  among  others  for  that  is 
because  the  result  of  individual  thought  is  often  a  de- 
cision to  suspend  generally  accepted  views  in  one's 


i34  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

own  case — which  you  fellows  don't  like.  I  don't  mind 
going  so  far  as  to  say  that  I  think  Miss  Driver  would 
be  capable  of  suspending  a  generally  accepted  view 
in  her  own  case — but  she  wouldn't  do  it  without 
thought  or  indifferently.  She  would  do  it  as  a  well- 
considered  exercise  of  power.  Some  people  like  power 
— I  don't  know  whether  a  priest  can  understand 
that?" 

We  had  come  to  the  "  Church  House  "  where  he 
dwelt  in  barracks  with  his  curates.  His  eyes  twinkled. 
"  I  know  what  you  mean — and  you  can  chaff  as  much 
as  you  like — but  I  shall  have  a  go  at  Miss  Driver." 

After  a  conversation  a  man  of  candid  mind  will 
often — and,  if  the  discussion  has  partaken  in  any  de- 
gree of  an  argumentative  character,  I  would  say  gen- 
erally— be  left  reflecting  whether  what  he  has  said 
was  even  as  true  as  he  meant  to  make  it.  As  I  had 
hinted,  I  talked  to  Alison  about  Jenny  with  reserves, 
but  even  within  their  limits  I  doubted  whether  I  had 
given  him  the  impression  I  had  meant  to  convey. 
Perhaps  he  understood,  though  he  could  never  ac- 
knowledge as  legitimate,  my  view  that  she  would  feel 
entitled  to  treat  herself  as  a  special  case.  He  might 
even  act  on  this  view — always  without  acknowledging 
it;  surely  Churches  have  been  known  to  do  that?  He 
might  approach  her  on  that  footing — with  the  hope 
of  changing  it.  I  had  meant  to  point  out  an  impos- 
sibility; I  fancied  I  had  indicated  a  task  and  com- 
municated a  stimulus.  Had  I  cast  aside  the  reserves, 
I  should  have  told  him  plainly  that  in  my  judgment 
the  emotional  basis  for  his  appeal  was  lacking  in  her. 
Emotions  existed,  but  not  in  that  direction;  that  was 


THE    INSTITUTE    CLERK  135 

more  what  I  had  wanted  to  say,  but,  not  feeling  at 
liberty  to  adduce  evidence,  I  had  lost  myself  in  gen- 
eralities. My  poor  modicum  of  truth  stopped  at  the 
dictum  that  to  Jenny  Jenny  would  seem  an  excep- 
tional person;  I  had  at  least  come  near  to  putting 
it  in  the  hazardous  and  unorthodox  form  that  every- 
body might  have  a  right,  on  sufficient  occasion,  so 
to  treat  himself.  And  he  himself  judge  of  the  suffi- 
ciency of  the  occasion?  That  amounts  to  anarchy — 
as  Alison,  of  course,  perceived,  and,  had  we  pursued 
the  argument,  I  must  have  found  myself  in  a  very 
tight  place. 

I  was  shaking  my  head  over  my  own  controversial 
incompetence — with,  perhaps,  a  furtive  saving  plea 
that  it  was  very  hard  to  tell  all  one's  thoughts  to  an 
ecclesiastic — when  I  was  suddenly  brought  back  to 
more  tangible  matters;  perhaps  also  to  my  modicum 
of  truth — that  Jenny  would  seem  to  Jenny  an  excep- 
tional person.  In  short,  on  turning  the  next  corner, 
I  all  but  ran  into  Mr.  Nelson  Powers. 

He  looked  as  greasily  insinuating  as  ever.  He  also 
appeared  to  be  more  prosperous  than  when  I  had  last 
seen  him.  He  looked,  so  to  say,  established — as  if  he 
had  a  right  to  be  where  he  was,  not  so  much  as  if  he 
were  "  trying  it  on  " — with  eyes  open  for  kicks  or  the 
police.  He  was  strolling  about  the  streets  of  Catsford 
quite  with  the  air  of  belonging  to  it. 

He  did  not  recognize  me,  or  would  not.  He  was 
almost  by  me  when  I  stopped  him. 

"  Mr.  Powers?  Surely  it  is?  What  brings  you  to 
Catsford?  " 

'  Mr.  Austin?  Yes!  Well,  now,  how  do  you  do,  sir? 


136  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

I'm  glad  to  meet  you  again.  I  was  unlucky  in  miss- 
ing that  dinner — well,  never  mind!  But  you've  heard? 
Miss  Driver  has  mentioned  my  appointment?  ,: 

"  I've  heard  nothing  of  any  appointment." 

"  Ah,  perhaps  I'm  premature  in  mentioning  it.  I'll 
say  good  afternoon,  Mr.  Austin." 

I  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  say  to  him.  I  was 
rather  bewildered;  I  thought  that  we  had  really  seen 
the  end  of  Powers. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  took  hold  of  mine, 
depriving  me  of  all  initiative  in  the  matter. 

"  Miss  Driver  will  speak  in  her  own  time,  sir.  I — I 
should  only  like  to  say,  sir,  that  I — I  recognize  the 
change  in  Miss  Driver's  position.  One  learns  wisdom, 
Mr.  Austin.  Good  afternoon,  sir."  He  pressed  my 
hand — he  was  wearing  gloves  and  I  was  not  sorry  for 
it — and  was  round  the  corner  while  I  was  still  gaping. 

I  walked  up  to  the  Priory,  immersed  in  a  rather 
scandalized,  rather  amused,  would-be  psychological 
line  of  reflection.  "  She  can't  help  it!  "  I  said  to  my- 
self. "  She  can't  let  anyone  go!  Not  even  Powers!  At 
the  first  chance  (I  did  not  yet  guess  what  the  chance 
was)  she  calls  him  to  heel  again.  Even  the  meanest 
hound  must  keep  with  the  pack.  It's  very  curious, 
but  that's  it!" 

In  fact  that  was  only  part  of  it — and  not  the  most 
significant  for  present  purposes. 

Jenny  had  gone  from  the  Committee  to  call  on  Mrs. 
Jepps,  a  person  of  much  consideration  in  Catsford, 
wife  of  its  first  Mayor  (now  deceased),  owner  of  an 
important  business  house  in  the  drapery  line,  vir  (save 
that  she  was  a  woman)  pietate  gravis,  and  eminently 


THE    INSTITUTE    CLERK  137 

meet  to  be  enrolled  among  the  active  adherents  of 
the  Institute. 

"And  I've  got  her!"  said  Jenny  complacently,  as 
she  gave  me  my  tea. 

"  Mr.  Alison  wants  to  get  you — I've  been  talking 
to  him." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  like  Mr.  Alison." 

"  He  wants  to  get  you.  Don't  misunderstand.  He 
doesn't  want  you  to  get  him,  you  know." 

'  Friendship  is  surely  mutual?  "  suggested  Jenny, 
with  a  lurking  smile. 

I  mentioned  the  matter  of  the  subscription:  Jenny 
was  satisfactorily  liberal. 

"  Not  that  you'll  be  quit  of  him  with  that,"  I 
warned  her. 

"  I'm  not  afraid.  Going?  Will  you  come  back  to 
dinner?  " 

I  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  her.  We  might 
just  as  well  have  it  out  now. 

"  You  remember  your  promise?  I'm  not  to  be 
called  upon  to  meet  Mr.  Powers?  I  happened  to  meet 
him  in  the  town  this  afternoon." 

Jenny  began  to  laugh — without  the  smallest  sign  of 
embarrassment.  "  I  was  going  to  break  it  to  you  over 
your  glass  of  port.  That's  why  I  asked  you  to  dinner. 
Now  don't  look  grave  and  silly.  Can't  you  really  see 
any  difference  between  me  as  I  am  and  the  girl  who 
came  here  a  year  ago?  Well,  then,  you're  stupider 
than  poor  Powers  himself!  He  sees  it  clearly  enough 
and  accepts  the  position — he  won't  expect  to  come  to 
dinner.  Besides  he's  very  sorry  for  what  happened. 
Besides   why  shouldn't  I   give  a  chance  to  an   old 


138  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

acquaintance  rather  than  to  a  stranger?  Besides — how 
I'm  piling  up  'besides'  just  to  keep  you  quiet! — 
Mrs.  Powers  has  come,  too,  and  all  the  children — 
three  now  instead  of  one!  So  really  it  must  be  all 
right." 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  him?  ': 

"  Why,  he's  a  first-class  draughtsman — trained  in  a 
very  good  architect's  office.  Mr.  Bindlecombe  has 
seen  specimens  of  his  work  and  says  it's  excellent.  I 
should  think  that  Mr.  Bindlecombe  knew!  "  (Mean- 
ing thereby,  as  the  lawers  say,  that  I  did  not!) 

"Well?" 

"  Can't  you  really  guess?  He's  to  be  the  Institute 
clerk.  He'll  draw  plans  and  so  on  for  us — and  she'll 
keep  the  house,  and  have  it  all  ready  for  our  Com- 
mittees." 

"  He's  to  live  at  Ivydene?  " 

"  Have  you  any  objection?  " 

Up  to  now  Jenny's  tone  had  been  evenly  com- 
pounded of  merriment — over  my  absurdities — and 
plausibility  for  her  own  admirable  management.  Now 
a  slightly  different  note  crept  in.  "  Have  you  any  ob- 
jection? "  was  not  said  in  a  very  conciliatory  manner. 

"  I  might  have  anticipated,"  she  went  on — "  in  fact 
I  do  anticipate — these  stupid  objections  from  Mr. 
Cartmell — and  I'm  prepared  to  meet  them.  But  from 
you  I  looked  for  more  perception.  The  man  is  a  clever 
man;  he's  out  of  employment.  Why  shouldn't  I  em- 
ploy him?  Is  it  to  be  fatal  to  him  that  he  was  once 
unwise — worse  than  unwise?  Against  that,  put  that 
he's  an  old  friend,  and  that  even  I  have  my  human 
feelings.  I  was  a  fool,  but  I  was  fond  of  him  once." 


THE    INSTITUTE    CLERK  139 

"  It's  for  you  to  judge,"  I  said. 

"  Can't  you  see — can't  you  understand?  "  she  ex- 
claimed. '  Powers  is  nothing — it's  all  over,  gone, 
done  with!  "  She  clasped  her  hands  excitedly.  "  Oh, 
when  I've  so  much  on  my  shoulders,  why  do  you 
worry  me  with  trifles?  " 

'  If  you've  so  much  on  your  shoulders,  why  add 
even  trifles?  " 

"  I  add  nothing,"  she  said.  "  On  the  contrary  I — " 
She  broke  off  suddenly,  and  added  quickly,  "  It's  done 
— I'm  pledged  to  him.  Oh,  don't  bother  me  about 
Powers!"  She  calmed  down  again.  She  returned  to 
plausibility.  She  went  on  with  a  smile,  "  You've  found 
me  out  in  one  way,  of  course.  I  do  want  my  own  man 
there.  I  want  my  own  way  in  everything,  so  I  want 
a  man  who'll  back  me  up — a  man  who'll  always  be 
on  my  side,  who  won't  suddenly  go  over  to  Lord  Fil- 
ling-ford, or  the  Rector — or  even  Lady  Sarah!  Poor 
Powers  will  have  to  agree  with  me  always — he'll  have 
to  be  a  blind  adherent.  He  can't  afford  to  differ." 

"  That's  frank,  at  all  events,"  I  commented. 

Jenny's  face  lit  up.  "  Yes,  it  is,"  she  said,  with 
much  better  temper.  "  Quite  frank — the  whole  truth 
about  Jenny  Driver!  He'll  be  what  I  want — and  do 
you  seriously  mean  to  say  that  you  think  there's  any 
danger?  Nobody  here  knows  anything  about  him,  ex- 
cept you  and  Mr.  Cartmell.  Are  you  traitors?  Will 
Powers  speak — and  lose  his  livelihood?  It's  absurd 
to  talk  of  danger  from  Powers." 

I  had  come  to  agree  with  her  that  it  was.  So  far  as 
I  could  judge,  there  was  no  longer  any  appreciable 
danger  from  the  man — neither  from  his  presence  in 


140  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Catsford  nor  from  Jenny's  meetings  with  him.  He 
could  not  afford  to  threaten;  she  had  grown  far  out 
of  any  peril  of  being  cajoled.  But  if  not  dangerous, 
neither  was  the  arrangement  attractive  to  one's  taste. 
It  was  difficult  to  suppose  that  Jenny  herself  liked  it, 
unless  indeed  my  highly  philosophical  speculations 
covered  the  whole  ground.  Did  they?  Must  she  really 
recall  Powers?  Couldn't  she  help  it?  Was  a  present 
and  immediate  domination  over  even  such  as  Powers 
essential  to  her  content? 

I  could  not  believe  it  and  accused  my  own  specula- 
tions, if  not  of  entire  error  (they  had  an  element  of 
truth),  yet  of  inadequacy.  In  fact  a  doubt  had  begun 
to  creep  into  my  mind.  Never  in  my  life  had  I  heard 
so  many  sound  reasons  for  doing  a  thing  that  was 
obviously  quite  uncalled  for — unless  there  was  one 
other  reason  still — a  reason  not  plausible,  nor  pro- 
ducible, but  compelling.  Yet  what?  For  I  was  con- 
vinced that  the  man  had  no  hold,  that  she  was  not 
in  the  least  afraid  of  Powers. 

"  I  hate  your  standing  opposite  me  and  thinking 
about  me,"  remarked  Jenny  suddenly.  "  I'm  sure  it's 
not  comfortable,  and  I  don't  think  it's  polite.  Besides, 
after  all,  it's  possible  that  you  might  find  out  some- 
thing! " 

"  Surely  that  '  Besides  '  is  superfluous,  anyhow?  ': 

"  I  don't  know — I  don't  quite  trust  you.  But  shall 
I  tell  you  your  mistake?  You're  too  ready  to  think 
that  I  have  a  reason  for  everything  I  do.  You're 
wrong.  Where  reason  comes  in  with  me  is  about  the 
things  I  don't  do.  If  you  reason  about  things,  most  of 
them  look  either  dull  or  dangerous.  So  you  let  them 


THE    INSTITUTE    CLERK  141 

alone.  But  if  you  don't  reason,  you  chance  it — either 
the  dullness  or  the  danger,  as  the  case  may  be." 

"A  juggle  with  words!  You  reason  all  the  same." 

"  Not  always.  Sometimes  you're — driven." 

On  her  face  was  a  look  almost  as  if  she  were  being 
driven.  I  fancied  that  I  might  have  said  too  much 
about  deliberate  exercises  of  power  in  my  conversa- 
tion with  the  Rector. 

'  I  suppose  you'd  explain  that,  if  you  wished  to," 
I  remarked  after  a  pause.  "  You  appear  to  be  as  free 
from  being  driven  as  most  people.  You're  pretty  in- 
dependent! " 

"  I  should  explain  it  if  I  wished — perhaps  even  if 
I  could.  But  do  you  always  find  it  easy  to  explain 
yourself — even  to  yourself,  to  say  nothing  of  other 
people?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you've  only  got  yourself  to 
please." 

"  Arid  it  also  seems  to  you  that  that  would  be  very 
easy?  " 

"  Now  you're  in  one  of  your  fencing  moods — 
there's  no  plain  English  to  be  got  out  of  you." 

"  Fencing  is  useful  to  parry  thrusts,  Austin." 

"  Heavens,  have  I  been  making  thrusts  at  you? 
You  mean  about  that  miserable  Powers? ': 

She  sat  there  looking  at  me,  with  the  mystery  smile 
on  her  lips;  but  her  brow  was  knit.  "Yes,  about 
Powers,"  she  said — after  a  pause,  but  without  hesita- 
tion. The  manner  of  her  answer  said  plainly  "  Call  it 
about  Powers — it  is  about  something  else."  So  I 
think  she  meant  me  to  read  it.  She  told  me  that 
there    was    some    trouble    lest,    suspecting   but    not 


142  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

knowing,  I  should  make  wild  thrusts  and  wound  her 
blindly. 

"  No  one  but  you  would  put  up  with  such  an  im- 
pertinent retainer,"  I  said. 

"  You  always  stop  when  I  want  you  to.  And  I 
rather  like — sometimes — to  try  over  my  feelings  and 
ideas  in  talk.  One  gets  a  kind  of  outside  look  at  them 
in  that  way."  She  broke  into  a  little  laugh.  "  And  I 
must  keep  you  in  a  good  temper,  because  I've  a  favor 
to  ask.  Are  we  going  to  be  terribly  busy  in  the  im- 
mediate future?  " 

"  I  should  think  so — with  your  Institute!  " 

"  No  time  for  riding?  "  she  suggested  insinuat- 
ingly. 

"  Oh,  well,  one  must  consider  one's  health." 

"  I  don't  want  to  give  up  my  morning  ride;  but  I 
want  you  to  come  with  me — well,  as  often  as  you  can. 
Make  it  the  regular  thing  to  come,  barring  most 
pressing  business." 

"  I  see  what  I  get  out  of  this,  Lady  Jenny.  Now 
what  do  you?  " 

"  I  knew  you'd  ask  that.  Of  course  I'm  never  dis- 
interested! " 

"  I  won't  ask.  I'll  take  the  gift  Heaven  sends!  " 

"  I  daren't  leave  it  like  that.  You're  too  conscien- 
tious; you'd  stay  at  home  and  work.  I'm  afraid  I  must 
give  you  the  reason." 

Her  thoughts  had  passed  away,  it  seemed,  from  the 
difficulty  which  had  made  her  now  irritable,  now  mel- 
ancholy, while  we  talked  about  reasoning  and  being 
"  driven."  She  was  gay  and  chaffed  me  with  enjoy- 
ment. If  there  were  any  perplexity  in  the  case  here, 


THE    INSTITUTE    CLERK  143 

evidently  it  struck  her  as  a  comedy,  complicated  by 
no  threat  of  a  tragic  catastrophe.  Her  lips  twitched 
with  merriment. 

"  Yes,  you  must  have  it — and  really  plain  English 
this  time — no  fencing — the  downright  blunt  truth!" 

"  I  wait  for  it." 

"  Lord  Lacey  comes  home  on  leave  to-morrow." 

The  explanation  here  was  certainly  plain.  In  fact 
it  was  both  plain  and  pregnant.  While  it  confessed 
to  a  flirtation  in  the  past,  it  also  admitted  a  project 
for  the  future. 

"  I  must  ride  as  often  as  possible,"  I  said  gravely. 
"  Does  he  stay  long?  " 

"  I  should  think  that  might  depend,"  answered 
Jenny.  She  laughed  again  as  she  added,  "  Not  even 
you  can  ask  '  On  what?  '  " 


CHAPTER    X 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS 


I  HOPE  that  my  company  on  the  morning  rides 
was  agreeable  to  Jenny,  but  I  cannot  be  per- 
suaded that  it  was  necessary;  she  showed  such 
perfect  ability  to  handle  a  situation  which,  if  not  pre- 
cisely difficult,  might  easily  have  become  so  under 
less  skillful  management.  There  had,  of  course,  never 
been  any  serious  lovemaking  between  her  and  Lacey; 
whatever  he  may  have  been  inclined  to  feel,  or  to  tell 
himself  that  he  felt,  she  had  always  kept  him  to  his 
position  as  "  a  boy."  Yet  young  women  in  the  twen- 
ties do  not  always  scorn  the  attentions  of  boys,  and 
Jenny  had  certainly  not  despised  Lacey's.  In  fact, 
they  had  flirted,  and  flirted  pretty  hard — and,  as  has 
been  seen,  Jenny  was  at  no  trouble  to  deny  it.  But 
now  the  thing  had  to  stop — or  rather  the  flirtation 
had  to  be  transformed,  the  friendship  established  on 
a  new  basis.  Into  this  task  Jenny  put  some  of  her  best 
work.  Her  finest  weapon  was  a  frank  cordiality — such 
as  could  not  but  delight  a  friend,  but  was  really 
hopeless  for  a  lover.  To  every  advance  it  opposed  a 
shield  of  shining  friendliness,  of  a  hearty,  almost  mas- 
culine, comradeship.  It  left  no  room  for  the  attacks 
and  defenses,  the  challenges  and  evasions,  the  pur- 

144 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS  145 

suit,  the  flight,  and  the  collusive  capture.  It  was  all 
such  immensely  plain  sailing,  all  so  pre-eminently 
above-boarcl,  in  its  unmitigated  cunning.  But  it  was 
charming  also,  and  Lacey,  though  naturally  a  little 
puzzled  at  first,  soon  felt  the  charm.  He  was  wax  in 
those  clever  hands;  she  seemed  to  be  able  not  only 
to  make  him  do  what  she  wanted,  but  even  to  make 
him  feel  toward  her  as  she  wished — to  impart  to  his 
emotions  the  color  which  she  desired  them  to  take. 
Positively  I  think  he  began  to  forget  the  flirtation  in 
the  friendship,  or  to  charge  his  memory  with  twist- 
ing or  misinterpreting  the  facts.  All  the  time,  though, 
he  would  have  been  ready  to  resume  the  old  footing 
at  the  smallest  encouragement,  the  lightest  touch  of 
coquetry  or  allurement.  But  Jenny's  masterpiece  of 
honest  friendship  was  without  any  such  flaw;  if  she 
was  great  at  flirtation,  she  was  no  less  a  mistress  of 
the  art  of  baffling  it.  With  such  ability  and  such  self- 
confidence  what  need  had  she  of  my  presence?  She 
was  wiser  than  I  was  when  I  put  that  question  to  my- 
self. I  thought  only  of  what  would  happen;  she  re- 
membered what  people  might  say — that  the  neigh- 
bors had  tongues,  and  that  Fillingford  had  ears  to 
his  head  like  other  folks.  While  the  buckler  of  cor- 
diality fronted  Lacey,  I  was  her  shield  against  a  flank 
attack. 

Had  she  really  made  up  her  mind  then?  It  looked 
like  it.  If  she  rode  in  my  company  with  Lacey  in  the 
morning,  she  received  his  father  without  my  com- 
pany in  the  afternoon.  There  could  be  no  doubt  what 
he  came  for;  middle-aged  men  of  many  occupations 
do  not  pay  calls  two  or  three  afternoons  a  week  with- 


146  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

out  a  purpose.  What  passed  at  these  interviews  re- 
mained, of  course,  a  secret;  I  confess  to  a  suspicion 
that  Jenny  found  them  dull.  Fillingford's  wariness  of 
exposing  himself  to  rebuff  or  ridicule,  his  habitual 
secretiveness  as  to  his  emotions,  cannot  have  made 
him  either  an  ardent  or  an  entertaining  suitor.  In 
truth  I  do  not  believe  that  he  seriously  pretended  to 
be  in  love.  He  liked  her  very  much;  he  thought  that 
she  would  fill  well  the  place  he  had  to  offer,  and  that 
she,  in  her  turn,  would  like  to  fill  it,  and  might  find 
him  agreeable  enough  to  accept  with  it.  That  would 
content  him.  With  that  I  thought  she,  too,  would  be 
content — considering  the  other  advantages  thrown 
in.  She  would  not  have  cared  for  his  love,  but  she 
could  endure  his  company.  That  carried  with  it  only 
a  limited  liability — and  good  dividends  in  the  form 
of  rank,  position,  and  influence.  In  dealing  with  the 
Drivers  one  had  a  tendency  to  fall  into  commercial 
metaphors;  caught  from  old  Nicholas,  the  trick  ex- 
tended itself  to  Jenny. 

But  if  he  were  resolved  and  she  ready,  why  did  the 
thing  hang  fire?  It  did — and  surely  by  Jenny's  will? 
She  was  reasoning;  the  affair  could  not  look  danger- 
ous; then  it  looked  dull?  But  it  would  look  no  less 
dull  the  longer  she  looked  at  it.  Her  feelings  were 
not  engaged;  unless  caught  up  by  strong  emotions, 
she  shunned  the  irrevocable,  liked  open  alternatives, 
hated  to  close  the  line  of  retreat;  he  who  still  par- 
leys is  still  free,  he  who  still  bargains  is  still  master. 
That  attitude  of  her  mind — reenforced  by  her  father's 
warning — was  aways  strong  with  her  and  had  always 
to  be  remembered.  Was  it  enough  to  account  for  her 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS  147 

continuing  to  keep  Fillingford  at  bay?  The  answer 
might  well  be  yes — for  these  natural  predispositions 
will  knock  the  bottom  out  of  much  speciously  logical 
reasoning  about  people.  But  there  was  another  factor 
in  the  case — a  thing  which  could  not  be  overlooked. 
Why  was  Leonard  Octon  keeping  quiet?  Or  if  quiet 
perforce,  why  did  he  seem  placid,  content,  and,  con- 
trary to  all  expectation  of  him,  amiably  trustful? 

One  evening  I  availed  myself  of  his  invitation — 
Jenny  did  not  always  bid  me  to  dinner,  and  sometimes 
I  was  lonely  even  as  he  was — and  walked  down  to 
Hatcham  Ford.  Passing  Ivydene,  I  was  interested  to 
observe  lights  in  the  window,  though  it  was  nine 
o'clock  at  night.  Presumably  friend  Nelson  Powers 
did  not  merely  use  the  place  as  his  office  (Cartmell's 
protest  had,  of  course,  not  produced  the  smallest 
effect  on  Jenny — my  own  having  failed,  I  should 
have  been  annoyed  if  it  had),  but  was  established 
there  with  his  family.  Certainly  Jenny  did  not  always 
procrastinate — she  seemed  to  delay  least  when  the 
transaction  was  most  doubtful!  But  I  had  come  to 
accept  Powers's  position  as  one  of  her  freaks  and, 
save  for  a  rather  sour  amusement,  thought  at  the 
moment  little  more  about  him. 

That  night — it  seems  strange  to  say  it,  but  it  ex- 
presses my  inmost  feelings — I  made  friends  with 
Leonard  Octon;  before  I  had  been  merely  interested, 
amused,  and  exasperated  in  turn.  He  chose  to  remove 
from  me  the  ban  which  he  laid  on  and  maintained 
over  most  of  his  fellow-creatures — from  no  merit  of 
my  own,  as  I  believe,  but  because  I  stood  near  to 
Jenny;  or,  if  I  can  claim  any  part  in  the  matter,  be- 


148  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

cause  of  a  certain  openness  of  mind  which,  as  he  was 
good  enough  to  declare,  existed  in  me.  This  was 
to  say  no  more  than  that,  to  a  certain  and  limited 
extent,  I  agreed  with  some  of  his  prejudices — his  own 
openness  of  mind  consisting  mainly  in  a  hatred  of 
the  views  and  opinions  of  most  other  people.  I  was 
a  very  pale  copy  of  him.  Things  toward  which  my 
meditations  and  my  temper  bred  in  me  a  degree  of 
indifference  he  frankly  and  cordially  hated.  Respect- 
ability may  be  chosen  as  the  word  to  sum  them  up; 
if  I  questioned  its  merits,  he  hated  and  damned  it 
utterly.  This  was  one  of  the  things  which  interested 
and  amused — and,  when  it  issued  in  rudeness  to 
Lady  Aspenick,  also  exasperated.  It  was  not  for  this 
that  I  made  friends  with  him. 

"  When  I  saw  that  woman  owning  that  road — com- 
ing along  in  her  twopenny  glory,  with  her  flunkeys  to 
whistle  me  out  of  the  way — she  looked  at  me  herself, 
too,  mind  you,  and  without  a  gleam  of  recognition — 
I  got  angry.  Not  even  the  public  road,  mind  you!  She 
was  a  guest  as  I  was." 

"  But  you  weren't  driving  a  tandem  with  a  restive 
leader." 

"  And  oughtn't  she  to  apologize  for  driving  restive 
horses?  Must  I  dodge  for  my  life — or  for  hers — with- 
out even  a  civil  word  or  look — just  an  order  from  a 
flunkey? " 

"  For  some  reason  or  another,"  I  observed,  "  peo- 
ple who  are  angry  always  call  grooms  and  footmen 
flunkeys." 

He  burst  into  a  guffaw  of  laughter.  "  Lord,  yes, 
asses  all  of  us,  to  be  sure!  And  what,  after  all,  does  a 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS  149 

flick  in  the  face  come  to,  Mr.  Philosopher?  Nothing 
at  all!  It  hardly  even  hurts.  But  a  man  calls  it 
a  deadly  insult — when  he's  angry;  between  man 
and  man  there  must  be  blood  for  it  when  they're 
angry." 

"  There's  the  police  court,"  I  suggested  mildly. 

"  As  you  say,  for  sheep  there's  the  police  court.  I 
came  as  near  behaving  right  as  one  can  with  a 
woman  when  I  broke  her  whip." 

"  You  really  think  that?  " 

"  Yes,  Austin,  I  really  do — and  that  shows,  as  you 
were  going  to  say,  that  I'm  utterly  hopeless.  I  don't 
fit  the  standards."  He  was  sitting  hunched  up  over 
the  fire,  monopolizing  its  heat,  his  great  shoulders 
nearly  up  to  his  ears.  He  condemned  himself  with 
much  better  humor  than  he  judged  other  people.  "  I 
don't  fit  them,  I  don't  agree  with  them,  I  hate  them. 
Left  to  myself,  I'd  get  out  of  this." 

'Who's  stopping  you?"  I  asked,  pulling  at  my 
pipe  and  trying  to  edge  nearer  the  fire. 

He  took  no  notice  of  my  question — which  was  in- 
deed no  more  than  an  indifferently  civil  way  of  sug- 
gesting that  he  was  at  liberty  to  please  himself.  He 
took  no  notice  of  my  futile  edging  either. 

"  Now  if  I  had  Jenny  Driver's  gifts  for  the  game," 
he  went  on,  "  I  daresay  I  should  like  it.  Oh,  you  were 
quite  right  there!  She's  equal  to  ruling  the  county, 
and  ruling  it  well.  Since  she  can  do  it,  I  don't  blame 
her  for  trying.  Perhaps  I'd  try  myself  in  the  same 
case.  But,  mind  you,  in  her  heart  she  thinks  no  more 
of  them  than  I  do.  They  can  give  her  what  she  wants, 
they  can't  give  me  what  I  want — that's  all  the  differ- 


150  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

ence.  So  it's  worth  her  while  to  fool  them — and  it's 
not  worth  mine.  Not  that  I  could  do  it  half  as  well 
as  she  does! " 

His  admiration  of  Jenny  was  unmistakably  affec- 
tionate as  well  as  amused.  There  is  a  way  a  man 
draws  at  his  pipe — long  pulls  with  smiles  in  between. 
It  tells  a  tale  when  a  woman's  name  has  just  passed 
his  lips. 

"  Then  all  she's  got  —  the  big  place  and  the 
money — the  influence  and  so  on — wouldn't  attract 
you?" 

He  turned  slowly  to  me.  "  It  might,  if  I  thought 
that  I  could  make  terms  with  the  people.  But  I  can't 
do  that.  So  I  should  hate  it.  Why  did  you  ask  me 
that  question,  Austin?" 

"  Why  not?  We  were  discussing  your  character, 
and  any  sidelights — "  I  ended  with  a  shrug. 

"You  humbug,  you  infernal  humbug!"  he  said. 
Then  he  fell  into  silence,  staring  again  at  the  fire. 

"  Not  at  all.  My  interest  is  quite  speculative.  What 
else  should  it  be?  Is  she  likely  to  die  and  leave  you 
her  property?  "  I  spoke  in  sincerity,  having  in  my 
mind  Jenny's  purpose  with  regard  to  Fillingford,  for 
a  settled  purpose  it  had  by  now,  to  my  thinking,  be- 
come. 

My  sincerity  went  home  to  him,  and  carried  with 
it  an  uncontrollable  surprise.  He  turned  his  head 
toward  me  again  with  a  rapid  jerk.  His  eyes  searched 
my  face,  now  rather  suspiciously.  Then  he  smiled. 
"  Yes,  that's  true.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  beg  your  par- 
don! "  he  said. 

He  had  recovered  himself  in  time  and  had  told  me 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS  151 

no  secret.  But  he  had  been  surprised  to  find  that  I 
considered  any  relation  of  his  to  Jenny's  place  and 
property  as  a  mere  speculation — no  more  than  the 
illustration  to  an  argument.  Then  he  must  consider 
it  as  more  than  that  himself.  But  then  how  could  he — 
he,  the  ostracized?  Yet  there  was  the  secret  treaty, 
whose  terms  availed  to  keep  him  quiet — quiet  and  at 
Hatcham  Ford.  There  were  a  lover's  obstinate  hopes. 
And — the  thought  flashed  into  my  mind — had  he  any 
knowledge  of  Fillingford's  frequent  calls  or  of  the 
dexterous  management  of  Lacey?  It  was  probable 
that  he  knew  as  little  of  them  as  Fillingford  knew  of 
the  mysterious  treaty. 

Suddenly  he  started  a  new  topic;  between  it  and 
the  previous  one  there  seemed  no  connection — unless 
Jenny  were  the  link. 

"  I  say,  that's  a  rum  fish — my  new  neighbor  Nel- 
son Powers !  " 

"  You've  made  acquaintance?  You  haven't  been 
long  about  it!  " 

"  He  smokes  his  pipe,  leaning  over  his  garden 
fence;  I  smoke  mine,  leaning  over  my  gate.  Hence 
the  acquaintance." 

"  Of  course;  you're  always  so  affable,  so  accessible 
to  strangers." 

He  dropped  his  scarcely  serious  pretense  of  having 
made  Powers's  acquaintance  casually.  "  Miss  Driver 
told  me  something  about  him.  We've  been  in  com- 
munication about  this  house  and  the  Institute,  you 
know." 

"  Did  she  tell  you  anything  interesting  about 
him?" 


152  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Only  that  he'd  been  a  humble  friend  in  days  gone 
by.  You're  looking  rather  sour,  Austin.  Don't  you 
like  Mr.  Nelson  Powers?" 

"  He's  not  one  of  my  particular  fancies,"  I  ad- 
mitted. 

"  Miss  Driver  says  he's  devoted  to  her." 

"  He's  in  debt  to  her,  anyhow,  I  expect — and  per- 
haps that'll  do  as  well." 

"  Perhaps."  He  was  speaking  now  in  a  ruminative 
way — as  though  he  were  comparing  in  his  mind 
Jenny's  account  of  Powers,  my  opinion  of  Powers, 
and  his  own  impression  of  the  man.  He  seemed  to 
me  to  give  more  thought  to  Powers  than  I  should 
have  expected  from  him;  a  rude  and  contemptuous 
dismissal  would  have  been  Powers's  more  probable 
fate  at  his  hands. 

"  Are  you  going  to  clear  out  for  the  Institute?  "  I 
asked. 

"  I  shall  be  out  of  this  house  in  less  than  a  year, 
anyhow.  That's  settled." 

"  Oh,  then  your  negotiations  have  been  very 
satisfactory!  You  had  a  right  to  stay  here  two 
years." 

"  The  present  state  of  affairs  can't  drag  on  for  two 
years,"  he  said,  looking  at  me  steadily.  His  ostensible 
reference  might  be  to  his  uncomfortable  relations 
toward  his  neighbors;  I  was  sure  that  he  meant  more 
than  that — and  did  not  mind  letting  me  see  it.  A  rest- 
lessness betrayed  itself  in  his  movements;  he  seemed 
to  be  on  the  edge  of  an  outbreak  and  to  hold  him- 
self back  with  a  struggle.  His  victory  was  very  im- 
perfect: he  could  not  keep  off  the  subject  which  per- 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS  153 

turbed  him;  he  could  only  contrive  to  treat  it  with  a 
show  of  lightness  and  contempt.  The  subject  had 
been  in  my  thoughts  already. 

"  Seeing  much  of  our  friend  Fillingford  just  now  at 
the  Priory?  " 

"  He  comes  a  certain  amount.  I  don't  see  much  of 
him." 

"  And  that  sets  fools  gossiping,   I  suppose?  " 

"  Need  you  ask  me,  Octon?  I  fancy  you've  heard 
something  for  yourself." 

He  rubbed  his  big  hands  together,  giving  a  laugh 
which  sounded  rather  uneasy  under  its  cloak  of 
amusement. 

"  It  won't  be  much  trouble  to  her  to  make  a  fool 
of  Fillingford — he's  a  conceited  ass.  She'll  use  him  as 
long  as  she  wants  him,  and  then — !  "  He  snapped  his 
fingers  scornfully. 

Had  he  struck  on  that  explanation  for  himself? 
Possibly — he  had  studied  Jenny.  Yet  it  sounded 
rather  like  an  inspired  version  of  her  policy.  The  weak 
spot  about  it  was  that,  by  now,  Jenny  could  have 
little  need  of  Fillingford — except  in  one  capacity.  As 
her  husband  he  could  give  her  a  good  deal;  he  could 
offer  her  no  obvious  advantages  in  any  other  relation. 
I  wondered  that  this  did  not  occur  to  Octon — and 
then  decided  that  it  did.  He  knew  that  the  argument 
was  weak;  he  hoped  that  I  would  afford  it  the  but- 
tress of  my  confirmatory  opinion. 

"Well?"  he  growled  impatiently,  for  I  said  noth- 
ing. 

"  I  didn't  understand  that  you  asked  me  a  ques- 
tion— and,  if  you  had,  I  shouldn't  have  answered  it. 


154  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

It's  no  business  of  mine  to  consider  how  Miss  Driver 
treats  Filling-ford  or  means  to  treat  him." 

At  that  his  temper  suddenly  gave,  his  hold  on  him- 
self was  broken.  "  But  it  is  of  mine,  by  God!  "  he 
cried. 

Our  eyes  met  for  a  moment;  then  he  turned  his 
head  away,  and  a  long  silence  followed.  At  last  he 
spoke  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  call  other  people  fools — I'm  a  fool  myself.  I 
can't  hold  my  tongue.  I  oughtn't  to  be  at  large.  But 
it's  pretty  hard  to  bottle  it  all  up  sometimes."  He  laid 
his  hand  on  my  knee.  "  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you'll 
forget  that  little  remark  of  mine,  Austin." 

"  I  can't  forget  it.  I  can  take  no  notice  of  it,"  I 
said. 

"  It's  not  merely  that  I  gave  myself  away — which, 
after  all,  doesn't  matter  as  you  happen  to  be  a  loyal 
fellow — I  know  that  "  (he  smiled  for  a  moment), 
"  having  tried  to  pump  you  myself.  But  what  I  said 
was  against  a  pledge  I  had  given." 

"  I  wish  you  hadn't  said  it — most  heartily.  I'll  treat 
it  as  unsaid — so  far  as  my  allegiance  allows." 

"  Yes,  I  see  that.  She  must  come  first  with  you, 
of  course." 

"And  with  you,  too,  I  hope?" 

"  In  my  sort  of  case  a  man  fights  for  himself." 

"  I'll  say  one  thing  to  you — since  you  have  spoken. 
You'd  much  better  go  away — before  that  year  is 
up." 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture  with  his  hands.  "  I 
can't!  "  Then  he  leaned  forward  and  half-whispered, 
"  You  put  your  money  on  Fillingford?  " 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS  155 

"  I  don't  intend  to  tell  you  what  I  think — if  you 
can't  gather  it  from  what  I've  said  already." 

Again  his  laugh  came — again  sounding  more  like 
bravado  than  real  confidence.  "  You're  wrong,  I  can 
tell  you  that,"  he  said.  "  I  shouldn't  be  here  if  I  wasn't 
sure  of  that." 

I  had  better  have  said  no  more,  but  temptation 
overcame  me.  "  I  don't  think  you  are  sure  of  it." 

I  expected  him  to  be  very  angry,  I  looked  for  some 
bluster.  None  came.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
wearily  rubbed  his  brow  with  his  hand.  The  case  was 
very  plain;  he  had  been  told,  but  he  was  not  sure  that 
he  had  been  told  the  truth.  Many  people  might  have 
told  him  that  Jenny  meant  to  marry  Fillingford.  Only 
one  on  earth  could  have  assured  him  that  she  did  not. 
The  assurance  had  been  forthcoming — not  in  so 
many  words,  perhaps,  yet  plainly  enough  to  be  an 
assurance  for  all  that.  But  was  it  an  assurance  of 
truth? 

It  grew  late,  and  I  took  my  leave.  Octon  put  on  his 
hat  and  walked  to  the  gate  with  me.  "  Come  and  see 
me  again,"  he  said.  "  I'm  always  ready  for  you — after 
dinner.  A  talk  does  a  man  good — even  if  he  talks  like 
a  fool." 

"  Yes,  I'll  come  again — not  that  I've  been  very 
comforting." 

"  No,  you  haven't.  But  then,  you  see,  I  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  you  say."  He  went  back  to  that  attitude 
— to  that  obstinate  assertion.  It  was  not  for  me  to 
argue  the  question  with  him;  even  if  my  tongue  were 
free,  why  should  I?  He  would  argue  it  quite  enough 
— there  at  Hatcham  Ford,  by  himself. 


156  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Is  that  your  estimable  neighbor? '  I  asked. 
Through  the  darkness,  by  help  of  the  street  lamp,  a 
man's  figure  was  visible,  standing  at  the  gate  of  the 
new  house  which  Jenny  had  taken  for  the  Institute 
office. 

"  That's  the  fellow,"  said  Octon,  and  he  walked  on 
with  me.  "  Good  evening,  Mr.  Powers,"  he  said,  as  we 
came  to  the  gate. 

Powers  bade  him  good  evening,  and  also  accorded 
to  me  a  courteous  greeting.  In  this  hour  of  leisure  he 
had  assumed  a  pseudo-artistic  garb,  a  soft  shirt  with 
trimmings  along  the  front  and  a  turndown  collar  cut 
very  low,  and  a  voluminous  tie  worn  in  an  ultra- 
French  fashion;  his  jacket  appeared  to  be  of  vel- 
veteen, rather  a  light  brown. 

"  You  find  me  star-gazing,  gentlemen,"  said  he. 
"  I  take  delight  in  it.  The  immensity  of  the  heav- 
ens!" 

"  And  the  littleness  of  man!  Quite  so,  Mr.  Powers," 
said  Octon,  refilling  his  pipe. 

"  These  thoughts  will  come — sometimes  to  encour- 
age us,  sometimes — er — with  an  opposite  effect." 

"  Don't  let  them  discourage  you,  Powers.  That 
would  be  a  pity.  After  all,  the  Institute  will  be  pretty 
big." 

To  a  refined  ear  Octon  was  not  treating  Powers 
precisely  with  respect — but  Powers's  ear  was  not  re- 
fined. He  was  evidently  quite  comfortable  and  at  his 
ease  with  Octon.  I  wondered  that  Octon  cared  to 
chaff  him  in  this  fashion,  offering  what  was  to  Powers 
a  good  substitute  for  friendliness. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Miss  Driver  is  giving  us  an  adequate 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS  157 

sphere  for  our  ambitions.  I  have  longed  for  one. 
Doubtless  you  have  also,  Mr.  Austin?  " 

"  I'm  not  very  ambitious,  Mr.  Powers." 

"Wise,  sir,  wise!  But  we  can't  help  our  disposi- 
tions. Mine  is  to  soar!  To  soar  upward  by  dint  of  hard 
work!  Miss  Driver  will  find  I've  not  been  idle  when 
she  next  honors  Ivydene  with  a  visit.  You  don't  know 
if  she'll  be  here  to-morrow?  " 

"  Not  I,"  I  answered.  "  Miss  Driver  doesn't  gener- 
ally tell  me  what  she's  going  to  do  to-morrow.  The 
boot's  on  the  other  leg — she  tells  me  what  I'm  going 
to  do  to-morrow." 

"Ha-ha!  Very  good,  sir,  very  good!  And  she's  a 
lady  one  is  proud  to  take  orders  from." 

"  Quite  so.  Good  night."  I  think  I  must  have 
spoken  rather  abruptly,  for  Powers's  answering 
"  Good  night  "  sounded  a  little  startled.  I  really 
could  not  bear  any  more  of  the  fellow.  But  Octon — 
impatient,  irascible,  contemptuous  Octon — seemed 
quite  happy  in  his  company.  If  he  were  not  the  rose, 
yet — ?  No,  the  proverb  really  could  not  be  strained 
to  embrace  the  moral  perfume  of  Powers. 

"  Good  night,  Austin.  I'll  stop  and  smoke  half  a 
pipe  here  with  Mr.  Powers." 

'  You  do  me  honor,  Mr.  Octon.  But  if  you'd  step 
inside — perhaps  just  a  little  drop  of  Scotch,  sir? 
Don't  say  no.  Drink  success  to  the  Institute!  One 
friendly  glass!  " 

What  a  picture!  Octon  drinking  success  to  the  In- 
stitute with  Powers!  But  a  short  time  ago  I  should 
have  deemed  it  a  happily  ludicrous  inspiration  from 
Bedlam.  To  my  amazement,  though  Octon  hesitated 


158  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

for  a  perceptible  space,  he  did  not  refuse.  He  glanced 
at  me,  laughed  in  a  rather  shamefaced  way,  and  said, 
"  Well,  just  a  minute,  and  just  one  glass  to  the  In- 
stitute— since  you  are  so  kind,  Mr.  Powers."  With  a 
nod  to  me  he  turned  and  followed  Powers  toward 
the  house. 

As  I  walked  home,  a  picture  of  the  position  pieced 
itself  together  in  my  head.  The  process  was  involun- 
tary— even  against  my  will.  I  tried  to  remind  myself 
all  the  time  of  Jenny's  own  warning — how  she  had  ac- 
cused me  of  too  often  imputing  to  her  long-headed 
cunning,  how  her  actions  were,  far  oftener  than  I 
imagined,  the  outcome  of  the  minute,  not  the  result 
of  calculation  or  subtle  thought.  Yet  if  in  this  case 
she  had  been  subtle  and  cunning,  she  might  have 
produced  some  such  combination  as  now  insisted  on 
taking  shape  before  my  brain.  For  the  sake  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  her  position  and  prestige  in  its 
eyes,  especially  for  the  sake  of  Fillingford,  she  had 
abandoned  Octon  and  had  banished  him.  But  she 
wanted  to  see  him — and  to  see  him  without  creating 
remark;  in  plain  fact,  to  see  him,  if  not  secretly,  yet 
as  privately  as  she  could.  Next,  she  wished  to  make 
progress  with  the  Institute,  to  establish  an  office  with 
a  clerk,  an  office  where  meetings  could  be  held  and 
plans  made,  and  where  she  could  come  and  see  how 
matters  were  getting  on — a  clerk  on  whom  she  could 
depend  to  support  her,  always  to  be  on  her  side — a 
clerk  who,  as  she  had  said,  could  not  afford  to  be 
against  her.  Hence  came  Ivydene — and  Mr.  Powers. 
Was  it  mere  chance  that  Ivydene  was  just  opposite 
Hatcham   Ford?   Was   Mr.   Powers's   support — that 


A    FRIENDLY    GLASS  159 

subserviency  on  which  Jenny  had  playfully  laid  stress 
— desired  only  against  Lady  Sarah  and  other  possibly 
recalcitrant  members  of  the  Committee?  If  Powers 
could  not  afford  to  oppose  her  on  the  Committee's 
work,  could  he  afford  any  the  more  to  thwart  her 
in  her  private  concerns?  Plainly  not.  There  also  he 
was  bound  to  help. 

So  the  picture  formed  itself;  and  the  last  bit  to  fit 
in,  and  thereby  to  give  completeness,  was  what  I  had 
seen  that  night — the  strange  complaisance  of  Octon 
toward  the  intolerable  Powers.  Did  Octon  smoke  his 
pipe  in  Powers's  house  and  drink  Powers's  whisky 
for  nothing?  That  "  friendly  glass  " — what  was  its 
significance? 

This  was  work  for  a  spy  or  a  detective.  I  thrust  the 
idea  away  from  me.  But  the  idea  would  not  depart. 
A  man  must  use  his  senses — nay,  they  use  them- 
selves. The  more  I  sought  to  banish  the  explanation, 
the  more  insolently  it  seemed  to  stare  me  in  the  face. 
"  Pick  a  hole  in  me,  if  you  can!  "  it  challenged.  The 
hole  was  hard  to  pick. 


CHAPTER    XI 


THE    SIGNAL    AT    "  DANGER  " 


ALISON  lost  little  time  in  making  his  prom- 
ised attack  on  Jenny;  he  was  not  the  man 
l  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet.  It 
might  be  improper  to  say  that  he  chose  the  wrong 
moment — for  no  moment  could  be  wrong  from  his 
point  of  view,  and  the  one  most  wrong  from  a  worldly 
aspect  might  well  be  to  his  mind  the  supremely  right. 
Yet  according  to  that  purely  worldly  standpoint  the 
time  was  unfortunate.  Jenny  had  a  great  many  other 
things  to  think  of — very  pressing  things:  as  to  many 
of  us,  so  to  her,  her  religious  position  perhaps  seemed 
a  matter  which  could  wait.  Moreover — by  a  whimsi- 
cal chance — the  Rector  ran  up  against  another  diffi- 
culty: to  Jenny  it  was  a  refuge,  of  which  she  availed 
herself  with  her  usual  dexterity.  When  one  attack 
pressed  her,  I  am  convinced  that  she  absolutely  wel- 
comed the  advent  of  another  from  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. Between  the  two  she  might  slip  out  unhurt;  at 
any  rate,  if  one  assailant  called  on  her  to  surrender, 
she  could  bid  him  deal  with  the  other  first.  The 
analogy  is  not  exact — but  there  was  a  family  likeness 
between  her  balancing  of  Fillingford  against  Octon 
and  the  way  in  which,  assailed  by  Alison,  she  inter- 
posed, as  a  shield,  the  views  urged  on  her  by  Mrs. 

1 60 


THE    SIGNAL   AT    "DANGER"        161 

Jepps.  Displayed  in  a  less  serious  campaign — less 
serious,  I  mean,  to  Jenny's  thinking — yet  it  was,  in 
essence,  the  same  strategy — and  it  was  a  strategy 
pretty  to  watch.  Be  it  remarked  that  Jenny  was  busy 
keeping  friends  with  everybody  during  these  anxious 
weeks. 

Mrs.  Jepps — if  I  have  said  it  before,  it  will  bear 
repetition — was  a  power  in  Catsford,  in  the  town  it- 
self. She  might  be  said  to  lead  the  distinctively  town 
society.  Age,  wealth,  character,  and  a  certain  incisive- 
ness  of  speech  combined  to  strengthen  her  position. 
She  was  a  small  old  lady,  with  plentiful  white  hair; 
she  had  been  pretty — save  for  a  nose  too  big;  in  her 
old  age  she  bore  a  likeness  to  Cardinal  Newman,  but 
it  would  never  have  done  to  tell  her  so — she  would  as 
soon  have  been  compared  to  the  Prince  of  Darkness 
himself.  For  she  was  a  most  pronounced  Evangelical, 
and  her  feud  with  Alison  was  open  and  inveterate. 
She  disapproved  profoundly  of  "  the  parish  clergy- 
man ";  she  called  him  by  that  title,  whereas  he  called 
himself  "  the  priest  in  charge  "  ;  for  his  "  assistant 
priests  "  she  would  know  no  name  but  "  curates." 
There  had  been  an  Education  Question  lately;  the 
fight  had  waxed  abnormally  hot  over  the  souls — 
almost  over  the  bodies — of  Catsford  urchins,  male 
and  female,  themselves  somewhat  impervious  to  the 
bearings  of  the  controversy.  Into  deeper  differences 
it  is  not  necessary  to  go.  The  Rector  thought  her  one 
of  the  best  women  he  knew,  but  one  of  the  most 
wrong-headed.  Put  man  for  woman — and  she  exactly 
reciprocated  his  opinion;  and  it  is  hard  to  deny, 
though  sad  to  admit,  that  her  zeal  for  Jenny's  spir- 


i62  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

itual  awakening  was  stirred  to  greater  activity  by  the 
knowledge  that  Alison  had  put  his  hand  to  the  alarm. 
To  use  a  homely  metaphor,  they  were  each  exceed- 
ingly anxious  that  the  awakened  sleeper  should  get 
out  on  what  was,  given  their  point  of  view,  the  right 
side  of  the  bed. 

To  Jenny — need  I  say  it? — this  situation  was  rich 
in  possibilities  of  staying  in  bed.  In  response  to  ap- 
peals she  might  put  one  foot  out  on  one  side,  then 
the  other  foot  out  on  the  other;  she  would  think  a 
long  while  before  she  trusted  her  whole  body  to  the 
floor  either  on  the  right  or  on  the  left.  She  did  not 
appreciate  in  the  least  the  fiery  zeal  which  urged  her 
to  one  side  or  the  other:  but  she  knew  that  it  was 
there  and  allowed  for  its  results.  To  her  mind  she  had 
two  friends — while  she  lay  in  bed;  a  descent  on  either 
side  might  cost  her  one  of  them.  While  she  hesitated, 
she  was  precious  to  both.  For  the  rest,  I  believe  that 
she  found  a  positive  recreation  in  this  ecclesiastical 
dispute;  to  play  off  Mrs.  Jepps  against  Alison  was 
child's  play  compared  to  the  much  more  hazardous 
and  difficult  game  on  which  she  was  embarked. 
Child's  play — and  byplay;  yet  not,  perhaps,  utterly 
irrelevant.  It  would  have  been  easy  to  say  "  A  plague 
on  both  your  houses!"  But  even  Mercutio  did  not 
say  that  till  he  was  wounded  to  death,  and  Jenny  was 
more  of  a  politician  than  Mercutio.  She  asked  both 
houses  to  dinner — and  took  pains  that  they  should 
meet. 

They  met  several  times — with  more  pleasure  to 
Mrs.  Jepps  than  to  the  Rector.  He  fought  for  con- 
science' sake,  and  for  what  he  held  true.  So  did  she 


THE    SIGNAL   AT    "DANGER"        163 

— but  the  old  lady  liked  the  fighting  for  its  own  sake 
also.  Jenny's  attitude  was  "  I  want  to  understand." 
She  pitted  them  against  one  another — Mrs.  Jepps's 
"  Letter  of  the  Scriptures  "  against  Alison's  "  Voice 
of  the  Living  Church,"  his  "  Primitive  Usage  and 
Teaching  of  the  Fathers  "  against  her  "  Protestantism 
and  Reformation  Settlement."  It  is  not  necessary  to 
deny  to  Jenny  an  honest  intellectual  interest  in  these 
and  kindred  questions,  although  her  concern  did  not 
go  very  deep — but  for  her  an  avowed  object  always 
gained  immensely  in  attraction  from  the  possibility 
of  some  remoter  and  unavowed  object  attaching  to  it. 
If  the  avowed  object  of  these  prolonged  discussions 
was  the  settlement  of  Jenny's  religious  convictions, 
the  remoter  and  unavowed  was  to  keep  herself  still 
in  a  position  to  reward  whichever  of  the  disputants 
she  might  choose  finally  to  hail  as  victor.  Policy  and 
temperament  both  went  to  foster  this  instinct  in  her; 
the  position  might  be  useful,  and  was  enjoyable;  her 
security  might  be  increased,  her  vanity  was  flattered. 
Jenny  stayed  in  bed! 

In  secular  politics  her  course  was  no  less  skillfully 
taken.  She  did  indeed  declare  herself  a  Conservative 
— there  was  no  doubt,  even  for  Jenny's  cautious  mind, 
about  the  wisdom  of  that  step — and  gave  Bertram 
Ware  a  very  handsome  contribution  toward  his  Reg- 
istration expenses;  the  expenses  were  heavy,  Ware 
was  not  a  rich  man,  and  he  was  grateful.  But  at  that 
time  the  question  of  Free  Trade  against  Protection — 
or  Free  Imports  against  Fair  Trade,  if  those  terms  be 
preferred — was  just  coming  to  the  front,  under  the 
impetus  given  by  a  distinguished  statesman.  Filling- 


i64  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

ford,  the  natural  leader  of  the  party  in  the  county- 
division,  was  a  convinced  Free  Trader.  Ware  had  at 
least  a  strong  inclination  for  Fair  Trade.  After  talks 
with  Fillingford  and  talks  with  Ware,  Jenny  gave  her 
contribution,  but  accompanied  it  by  an  intimation 
that  she  hoped  Mr.  Ware  would  do  nothing  to  break 
up  the  party.  The  hint  was  significant.  Between  the 
two  sections  which  existed,  or  threatened  to  exist,  in 
her  party,  Jenny — with  her  estate  and  her  money — 
became  an  object  of  much  interest.  They  united  in 
giving  her  high  rank  in  their  Primrose  League — but 
neither  of  them  felt  sure  of  her  support. 

To  complete  this  slight  sketch  of  the  public  posi- 
tion which  Jenny  was  making  for  herself,  add  Cats- 
ford  highly  interested  in  and  flattered  by  the  prospect 
of  its  Institute,  grateful  to  its  powerful  neighbor  for 
her  benefits,  perhaps  hopefully  expectant  of  more 
favors  from  the  same  hand — proud,  too,  of  old  Nick 
Driver's  handsome  and  clever  daughter.  Catsford  was 
both  selfishly  and  sentimentally  devoted  to  Jenny, 
and  of  its  devotion  Mr.  Bindlecombe  was  the  enthu- 
siastic and  resonant  herald. 

Her  private  relations,  though  by  no  means  free 
from  difficulty,  were  at  the  moment  hardly  less  flat- 
tering to  her  sense  of  self-importance,  hardly  less  elo- 
quent of  her  power.  Fillingford  was  ready  to  offer  her 
all  he  had — his  name,  his  rank,  his  stately  Manor; 
Octon  lingered  at  Hatcham  Ford,  hoping  against 
hope  for  her,  unable  to  go  because  it  was  her  will  that 
he  should  stay:  at  her  bidding  young  Lacey  was 
transforming  himself  from  a  gay  aspirant  to  her  favor 
into  the  submissive  servant  of  her  wishes,  her  warm 


THE    SIGNAL   AT    "DANGER"        165 

and  obedient  friend.  To  consider  mere  satellites  like 
Cartmell  and  myself  would  be  an  anti-climax;  yet  to 
us,  too,  crumbs  of  kindness  fell  from  the  rich  man's 
table  and  did  their  work  of  binding  us  closer  to  Jenny. 

If  she  stayed  as  she  was — the  powerful,  important 
Miss  Driver — she  was  very  well.  If  she  married  Fil- 
lingford,  she  hardly  strengthened  her  position,  but 
she  decorated  it  highly,  and  widened  the  sphere  of  her 
influence.  If  she  chose  to  take  the  risks  and  openly 
accepted  Octon,  she  would  indeed  strain  and  impair 
the  fabric  she  had  built,  but  she  could  hardly  so  injure 
it  that  time  and  skill  would  not  build  it  again  as  good 
as  new.  But  she  would  make  up  her  mind  to  none  of 
the  three.  She  liked  independence  and  feared  its  loss 
by  marriage.  She  liked  splendor  and  rank,  and  there- 
fore kept  her  hold  on  Fillingford's  offer.  Finally,  she 
must  like  Octon  himself,  must  probably  in  her 
heart  cling  more  to  him  than  she  had  admitted  even 
to  herself;  there  was  no  other  reason  for  dallying 
with  that  decision.  Across  the  play  of  her  politics 
ran  this  strong,  this  curious,  personal  attraction;  she 
could  not  let  him  go.  For  the  moment  she  tried  for 
all  these  things — the  independence,  the  prestige  of 
prospective  splendor  and  rank,  and — well,  whatever 
she  was  getting  out  of  the  presence  of  Octon  at 
Hatcham  Ford,  across  the  road  from  her  offices  at 
Ivydene. 

It  was  a  delicate  equipoise — the  least  thing  might 
upset  it,  and  in  its  fall  it  might  involve  much  that 
was  of  value  to  Jenny.  There  was  at  least  one  person 
who  was  not  averse  from  anything  which  would  set 
a  check  to  Jenny's  plans  and  shake  her  power. 


i66  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Jenny  and  I  had  been  to  Fillingford  Manor — 
where,  by  the  way,  I  took  the  opportunity  of  in- 
specting Mistress  Eleanor  Lacey's  picture,  Filling- 
ford  acting  as  my  guide  and  himself  examining  it 
with  much  apparent  interest — and,  as  we  drove 
home,  she  said  to  me  suddenly: 

"  Why  does  Lady  Sarah  dislike  me  so  much?  " 

"  She  has  three  excellent  reasons.  You  eclipse  her, 
you  threaten  her,  and  you  dislike  her." 

"  How  does  she  know  I  dislike  her?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  she  dislikes  you,  if  you  come 
to  that?  You  women  always  seem  to  me  to  have  spe- 
cial antennae  for  rinding  out  dislikes.  I  don't  mean  to 
say  they're  infallible." 

"  At  any  rate  Lady  Sarah  and  I  seem  to  agree  in 
this  case,"  laughed  Jenny.  "  She's  right  if  she  thinks 
I  dislike  her,  and  I'm  certainly  right  in  thinking  she 
dislikes  me.  But  how  do  I  threaten  her?  ' 

"  Come,  come!  Do  you  mean  me  to  answer 
that?  Nobody  likes  the  idea  of  being  turned  out 
—  any  more  than  they  welcome  playing  second 
fiddle." 

"  I'm  always  very  civil  to  her — oh,  not  only  at 
Fillingford!  I've  taken  pains  to  pay  her  all  the 
proper  honors  about  the  Institute.  Very  fussy  she  is 
there,  too!  She's  always  dropping  in  at  Ivydene  to 
ask  something  stupid.  She  quite  worries  poor  Mr. 
Powers." 

Jenny  might  resent  Lady  Sarah's  excessive  activ- 
ity at  Ivydene,  but  she  gave  no  sign  of  being  dis- 
quieted by  it.  To  me,  however,  it  seemed  to  be,  under 
the  circumstances,  rather  dangerous;  but  not  being 


THE    SIGNAL   AT    "DANGER"        167 

supposed  to  know,  or  to  have  guessed,  the  circum- 
stances,  I  could  say  nothing. 

Jenny's  next  remark  perhaps  explained  her  easi- 
ness of  mind. 

"  We  don't  let  her  in  if  we  don't  want  her.  I  must 
say  that  Mr.  Powers  is  very  good  at  keeping  people 
out.  Well,  I  must  try  to  be  more  pleasant.  I  don't 
really  dislike  her  so  much;  it's  chiefly  that  family 
iciness  which  is  so  trying.  It's  a  bore  always  to  have 
to  be  setting  to  work  to  melt  people,  isn't  it?  ' 

I  hold  no  brief  against  Lady  Sarah,  and  do  not 
regard  her  as  the  villain  of  the  piece.  She  was  a  wom- 
an of  a  nature  dry,  yet  despotic;  she  desired  power 
and  the  popularity  that  gives  power,  but  had  not 
the  temper  or  the  arts  to  win  them.  Jenny's  triumphs 
wounded  her  pride,  Jenny's  plans  threatened  her 
position  in  her  own  home  at  Fillingford  Manor.  Her 
dislike  for  Jenny  was  natural,  and  it  is  really  impos- 
sible to  blame  very  severely — perhaps,  if  family  feel- 
ing is  to  count,  one  ought  not  to  blame  at  all — her 
share  in  the  events  which  were  close  at  hand.  It  is, 
in  fact,  rather  difficult  to  see  what  else  she  could 
have  done.  If  she  had  a  right  to  do  it,  it  is  perhaps 
setting  up  too  high  a  standard  to  chide  her  for  a 
supposed  pleasure  in  the  work. 

When  we  got  home,  Cartmell  was  waiting  for 
Jenny,  his  round  face  portentously  lengthened  by 
woe.  He  shook  hands  with  sad  gravity. 

"What  has  happened?"  she  cried.  "Not  all  my 
banks  broken,  Mr.  Cartmell?" 

"  I'm  very  sorry  to  be  troublesome,  Miss  Jenny, 
but  I've  come  to  make  a  formal  complaint  against 


168  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Powers.  The  fellow  is  doing  you  a  lot  of  harm  and 
bringing  discredit  on  the  Institute  in  its  very  begin- 
nings. He  neglects  his  work;  that  doesn't  matter  so 
much,  there's  not  a  great  deal  to  do  yet;  he  spends 
the  best  part  of  the  mornings  lounging  about  public- 
house  bars,  smoking  and  drinking  and  betting,  and 
the  best  part  of  his  evenings  doing  the  same,  and 
ogling  and  flirting  with  the  factory  girls  into  the 
bargain.  He's  a  thorough  bad  lot." 

Jenny's  face  had  grown  very  serious.  "  I'm  sorry. 
He's — he's  an  old  friend  of  mine!" 

"  That  was  what  you  said  before.  On  the  strength 
of  it  you  gave  him  this  chance.  Well,  he's  proved 
himself  unworthy  of  it.  You  must  get  rid  of  him — 
for  the  sake  of  the  Institute  and  for  your  own  sake, 
too." 

"  Get  rid  of  him?  "  She  looked  oddly  at  Cartmell. 
"  Isn't  that  rather  severe?  Wouldn't  a  good  scolding 
from  you ?  " 

"  From  me?  He  practically  tells  me  to  mind  my 
own  business.  If  there  are  any  complaints,  the  fel- 
low says,  they'd  better  be  addressed  to  you!':  He 
paused  for  a  moment.  "  He  gives  the  impression  that 
you'd  back  him  up  through  thick  and  thin,  and, 
what's  more,  he  means  to  give  it." 

"  What  does  he  say  to  give  that  impression?  "  she 
asked  quickly. 

"  He  doesn't  say  much.  It's  a  nod  here,  and  a  wink 
there — and  a  lot  of  vaporing,  so  I'm  told,  about  hav- 
ing known  you  when  you  were  a  girl." 

"  That's  silly,  but  not  very  bad.  Is  that  all?  " 

"  No.  When  one  of  my  clerks — Harrison,  a  very 


THE    SIGNAL   AT    ''DANGER"        169 

steady  man — gave  him  a  friendly  warning  that  he 
was  going  the  right  way  about  to  lose  his  job,  he 
said  something  very  insolent." 

"  What?  "  She  was  sitting  very  still,  very  intent. 

"He  laughed  and  said  he  thought  you  knew  bet- 
ter than  that.  Said  in  the  way  he  said  it,  it — it  came 
to  claiming  some  sort  of  hold  on  you,  Miss  Jenny. 
That's  a  very  dangerous  idea  to  get  about." 

Cartmell  was  evidently  thinking  of  the  old  story — 
of  the  episode  of  Cheltenham  days.  But  had  Powers 
been  thinking  of  that?  And  was  Jenny,  with  her 
bright  eyes  intent  on  CartmeH's  face?  She  did  not 
look  alarmed — only  rather  expectant.  She  foresaw  a 
fight  with  Powers,  but  had  no  doubt  that  she  could 
beat  him — if  only  the  mischief  had  not  gone  too  far." 

'  He  seemed  to  refer  to — Cheltenham?  "  she  asked, 
smiling. 

Cartmell  was  the  embarrassed  party  to  the  con- 
versation. "  I — I'm  afraid  so,  Miss  Jenny,"  he  stam- 
mered, and  his  red  face  grew  even  redder. 

'  Oh,  I'll  settle  that  all  right,"  Jenny  assured  him. 

"  You'll  give  him  the  sack? "  Cartmell  asked 
bluntly. 

She  had  many  good  reasons  to  produce  against 
that,  just  as  she  had  produced  many  for  bringing  him 
to  Catsford.  "  I'll  reduce  him  to  order,  anyhow,"  she 
promised. 

That  was  what  she  wanted — to  bring  him  to  heel, 
not  to  lose  him.  But  surely  it  was  no  longer  for  his 
own  sake,  nor  even  to  satisfy  that  instinct  of  hers 
which  forbade  the  alienation  of  the  least  of  her  hu- 
man possessions?  There  was  more  than  that  in  it.  He 


170  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

was  part  of  the  scheme — he  fitted  into  that  expla- 
nation which  my  brain  had  insisted  on  conceiving  as 
I  walked  home  from  Ivydene.  Of  this  aspect  of  the 
case  Cartmell  was  entirely  innocent. 

By  one  of  her  calculated  bits  of  audacity — con- 
cealing much,  she  would  seem  to  have  nothing  to 
conceal — she  took  me  with  her  when  she  went  down 
to  Ivydene  the  next  morning,  to  haul  Powers  over 
the  coals.  She  would  have  me  present  at  the  interview 
between  them.  Well,  it  may  also  have  been  that  she 
did  not  want  too  much  plain  speaking — or,  rather, 
preferred  to  do  what  was  to  be  done  in  that  line  her- 
self. 

She  attacked  him  roundly;  he  stood  before  her  not 
daring  to  resist  openly,  yet  covertly  insolent,  hinting 
at  what  he  dared  not  say  plainly — certainly  not  be- 
fore me,  for  he  had  not  yet  decided  what  game  to 
play.  He  waited  to  see  what  he  could  still  get  out 
of  Jenny.  She  rehearsed  to  him  Cartmell's  charges 
as  to  his  conduct;  its  idleness,  its  unseemliness,  the 
disrepute  it  brought  on  her  and  on  the  Institute. 
Somehow  all  this  sounded  a  little  bit  unreal — or,  if 
not  unreal,  shall  I  say  preliminary?  Powers  confessed 
part,  denied  part,  averred  a  prejudice  in  Cartmell — 
this  last  not  without  some  reason.  She  rose  to  her 
gravest  charge. 

"  And  you  seem  to  have  the  impertinence  to  hint 
that  you  can  do  what  you  like,  and  that  I  shall  stand 
it  all,"  she  said. 

"  I  never  said  that,  Miss  Driver.  I  may  have  said 
you  had  a  kind  heart  and  wouldn't  be  hard  on  an  old 
friend."  He  had  his  cloth  cap  in  his  hands  and  kept 


THE    SIGNAL   AT    "DANGER"        171 

twisting  it  about  and  fiddling  with  it  as  he  talked. 
He  smiled  all  the  time,  insinuatingly,  yet  rather  un- 
easily, too." 

"  It's  not  your  place  to  make  any  reference  to  me," 
she  said  haughtily.  "  I'll  thank  you  to  leave  me  out 
of  your  conversation  with  these  curious  friends  of 
yours,  Mr.  Powers." 

He  looked  at  her,  licking  his  lips.  I  was  a  mere 
spectator,  though  I  do  not  think  either  of  them  had 
for  a  moment,  up  to  now,  forgotten  my  presence; 
indeed,  both  were,  in  a  sense,  playing  their  parts  be- 
fore me. 

"  I  don't  know  that  my  friends  are  more  curious 
than  other  people's,  Miss  Driver.  People  choose 
friends  as  it  suits  them,  I  suppose." 

She  caught  the  insinuation — he  must  have  meant 
that  she  should.  Her  eyes  blazed  with  a  sudden  an- 
ger. I  knew  the  signs  of  that;  when  it  came,  pru- 
dence was  apt  to  be  thrown  to  the  winds.  She  rose 
from  her  chair  and  walked  up  to  where  he  stood. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  "  she  demanded. 

He  was  afraid;  he  cowered  before  her  fury: 
"  Nothing,"  he  grumbled  sullenly. 

"  Then  don't  say  things  like  that.  I  don't  like  them. 
I  won't  have  them  said.  It  almost  sounded  as  if  you 
meant  a  reference  to  me." 

Of  course  he  had  meant  one.  She  saw  the  danger 
and  faced  it.  She  relied  on  her  personal  domination. 
He  was  threatening,  she  would  terrify.  She  went  on 
in  a  cool,  hard  voice — very  bitter,  very  dangerous. 

"  Once  before  in  your  life  you  threatened  me,"  she 
said.  "  I  was  a  child  then,  and  had  no  friends.  You 


172  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

got  off  safe — you  even  got  a  little  money — a  little 
very  dirty  money."  (He  did  not  like  that;  he  flushed 
red  and  picked  at  his  cap  furiously.)  "  Now  I'm  a 
woman  and  I've  got  friends.  You  won't  get  any 
money,  and  you  won't  get  off  safe.  Be  sure  of  that. 
Who'll  employ  you  if  I  won't?  What  character  have 
you  except  what  I  choose  to  give?  I  think,  if  I  were 
a  man,  I'd  thrash  you  where  you  stand,  Mr.  Powers." 

This  remark  may  perhaps  have  been  unladylike — ■ 
that  would  have  been  Chat's  word  for  it.  For  my  part 
I  thoroughly  appreciated  and  enjoyed  it.  She  was 
a  fine  sight  in  a  royal  rage  like  this. 

"  But  though  I'm  not  a  man,  I've  friends  who  are. 
If  you  dare  to  use  your  tongue  against  me,  look 
out!" 

He  could  not  stand  against  her  nor  face  her.  In- 
deed it  would  have  been  hard  to  fight  her,  unless  by 
forgetting  that  she  was  a  woman.  He  cringed  before 
her,  yet  with  an  obstinately  vicious  look  in  his 
would-be  humble  eyes. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Driver — indeed  I  do.  I 
— I've  been  wrong.  Don't  be  hard  on  me.  There's 
my  poor  wife  and  family!  You  shall  have  no  fur- 
ther cause  of  complaint.  As  for  threatening,  why, 
how  could  I?  What  could  I  do  against  you,  Miss 
Driver?  " 

Did  his  humility,  hardly  less  disagreeable  than 
his  insolence,  disarm  her  wrath?  Did  her  mood 
change — or  had  the  moment  come  for  an  artistic  dis- 
simulation? I  must  confess  that  I  do  not  know;  but 
suddenly  she  struck  him  playfully  on  the  point  of  the 
chin  with  her  glove  and  began  to  laugh.  "  Then,  you 


THE    SIGNAL    AT    "DANGER"        173 

dear  silly  old  Powers,  don't  be  such  a  fool,"  she 
said.  "  Don't  quarrel  with  your  bread  and  butter, 
and  don't  take  so  much  whisky  and  water.  Because 
whisky  brings  vapors,  and  then  you  think  you're  a 
great  man,  and  get  romancing  about  what  you  could 
do  if  you  liked.  I've  stood  a  good  deal  from  you, 
haven't  I?  I  would  stand  a  good  deal  for  old  times' 
sake.  You  know  that;  but  is  it  kind  to  presume  on 
it,  to  push  me  too  far  just  because  you  know  I  like 
you?" 

This  speech  I  defend  less  than  the  unladylike  one; 
I  liked  her  better  on  the  subject  of  the  thrashing. 
But  there  is  no  denying  that  it  was  very  well  done. 
Was  it  wholly  insincere?  Perhaps  not.  In  any  event 
she  meant  to  conquer  Powers,  and  was  not  without 
reason,  or  precedent,  in  trying  to  see  if  blarney  would 
aid  threats. 

He  responded  plausibly,  summoning  his  mock 
gentlemanliness  to  cover  his  submission,  and,  I  may 
add,  his  malice.  He  regretted  his  mistakes,  he  de- 
plored misunderstanding,  he  avowed  unlimited  obli- 
gation and  eternal  gratitude.  He  even  ventured  on 
hinting  at  the  memory  of  a  sentimental  attachment. 
"  I  can  take  from  you  what  I  would  from  no  other 
lady."  (At  no  moment,  however  agitated,  would 
Powers  forget  to  say  "  lady.")  The  remark  was  ac- 
companied by  an  unmistakable  leer. 

Even  that,  which  I  bore  with  difficulty,  Jenny  ac- 
cepted graciously.  She  gave  him  her  hand,  saying, 
"  I  know.  Now  let's  forget  all  this  and  work  pleas- 
antly together."  She  glanced  at  me.  :'  And  Mr. 
Austin,  too,  will  forget  all  about  our  little  quarrel?  ' 


i74  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  I'm  always  willing  to  be  friends  with  Mr.  Powers, 
if  he'll  let  me,"  I  said. 

"  And  so  are  all  my  friends,  I'm  sure,"  said  Jenny. 

Going  out,  we  had  a  strange  encounter,  which 
stands  forth  vivid  in  memory.  Jenny's  brougham  was 
waiting  perhaps  some  thirty  yards  up  the  road 
toward  Catsford:  the  coachman  had  got  down  and 
was  smoking;  it  took  him  a  moment  or  two  to  mount. 
In  that  space  of  time,  while  we  waited  at  the  gate, 
Octon  came  out  from  Hatcham  Ford  and  lounged 
across  the  road  toward  us.  At  the  same  instant  a 
landau  drove  up  rapidly  from  the  other  direction, 
going  toward  Catsford.  In  it  sat  Lady  Sarah  Lacey. 
She  stared  at  Octon  and  cut  him  dead;  she  bowed 
coldly  and  slightly  to  Jenny;  she  inclined  her  head 
again  in  response  to  a  low  bow  and  a  florid  flourish 
of  his  cap  from  Powers.  I  lifted  my  hat,  but  received 
no  response.  Jenny  returned  the  salute  as  carelessly 
as  it  was  given,  bestowed  a  recognition  hardly  more 
cordial  on  Octon,  and  stepped  into  the  brougham 
which  had  now  come  up.  As  we  drove  off,  Powers 
stood  grinning  soapily;  Octon  had  turned  on  his  heel 
again  and  slouched  slowly  back  to  his  own  house. 

Jenny  threw  herself  into  the  corner  of  the 
brougham,  her  body  well  away,  but  her  eyes  on  my 
face.  For  many  minutes  she  sat  like  this;  I  turned 
my  eyes  away  from  her;  the  silence  was  uncomfort- 
able and  ominous.  At  last  she  spoke. 

"  You've  guessed  something,  Austin?  ,! 

I  turned  my  head  to  her.  "  I  couldn't  help  it." 

She  nodded,  rather  wearily,  then  smiled  at  me. 
"  The  signal's  at  '  Danger,'  "  she  said. 


CHAPTER    XII 

SAVING   A   WEEK 

SEEN  in  retrospect,  the  history  of  the  ensuing 
days  stands  out  clearly;  subsequent  knowl- 
edge supplies  any  essential  details  of  which  I 
was  then  ignorant  and  turns  into  certainties  what 
were,  in  some  cases,  only  strong  suspicions  at  the 
moment.  If  it  be  wondered — and  it  well  may  be — 
that  any  woman  should  choose  to  live  through  such 
a  time,  it  is  hardly  less  marvelous  that  she  could 
stand  the  strain  of  it.  Brain  and  feelings  alike  must 
have  been  sorely  taxed.  Jenny  never  faltered;  she 
looked,  indeed,  tired  and  anxious,  but  she  had  many 
intervals  of  gayety,  and,  as  the  crisis  approached,  she 
was  remarkably  free  from  her  not  unusual  little  gusts 
of  temper  or  of  petulance.  To  all  around  her  she 
showed  graciousness  and  affection,  desiring,  as  it 
seemed,  to  draw  from  us  expressions  of  attachment 
and  sympathy,  making  perhaps  an  instinctive  at- 
tempt to  bind  us  still  closer  to  her,  to  secure  us  for 
friends  if  anything  went  wrong  in  the  dangerous 
work  on  which  she  was  engaged. 

She  had  a  threefold  struggle — one  with  Filling- 
ford,  one  with  Octon,  the  last  and  greatest — really 
involving   the   other  two — with   herself.    Fillingford 

i7S 


176  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

was  pressing  for  her  answer  now.  It  was  not  so  much 
that  any  heat  of  emotion,  any  lover's  haste,  urged 
him  on;  he  had  begun  to  be  fearful  for  his  dignity, 
to  be  apprehensive  of  the  whispers  and  smiles  of  gos- 
sip, if  Jenny  played  with  him  much  longer.  She  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  accept  him.  Not  only  were 
there  the  decorative  attractions  and  the  wider  sphere 
of  influence;  she  felt  that  in  a  marriage  with  him  lay 
safety.  She  was  not  afraid  of  him;  it  would  be  a  part- 
nership in  which  she  could  amply  hold  her  own — 
and  more  than  that.  The  danger  pointed  out  in  her 
father's  warning — so  congenial  to  her  that  it  sank 
deep  into  her  own  mind  and  was  never  absent  from 
it — would  here  be  reduced  to  a  minimum.  There  the 
attractions  of  the  project  stopped.  She  was  not  the 
least  in  love  with  him;  I  do  not  think  that  she  even 
considered  him  an  actively  agreeable  companion. 
An  absence  of  dislike  and  a  genuine  esteem  for 
his  honorable  qualities — that  was  all  she  could 
muster  for  him.  No  wonder,  perhaps,  that,  though 
her  head  had  decided,  her  heart  still  pleaded  for 
delay. 

With  Octon  the  case  was  very  different.  There  she 
was  fascinated,  there  she  was  in  thrall — so  much  in 
thrall  that  I  am  persuaded  that  she  would  deliber- 
ately have  sacrificed  the  attractions  of  the  Fill- 
ingford  alliance,  braved  her  neighbor's  disapproval, 
imperiled  the  brilliant  fabric  of  popularity  and  power 
which  she  had  been  at  such  pains  to  create — save  for 
one  thing.  She  was  fascinated  to  love  by  the  quality 
which,  above  all  others,  she  dreaded  in  marriage. 
In  that  great  respect  wherein  Fillingford  was  harm- 


SAVING    A    WEEK  177 

less,  Octon  was  to  her  mind  supremely  to  be  feared. 
The  very  difficulty  she  now  felt  in  sending  him  away 
was  earnest  of  the  dominion  which  he  would  exer- 
cise. Since  he  was  a  lover,  no  doubt  he  made  the 
usual  lover's  vows — or  some  of  them;  very  likely  he 
told  her  that  her  will  would  be  his  law,  or  spoke  more 
impassioned  words  to  that  effect.  Such  protestations 
from  his  lips  carried  no  conviction.  The  man  could 
not  help  being  despotic.  She  was  despotic,  too.  If  he 
would  not  yield,  she  could  not  answer  for  it  that  she 
would,  and  perhaps  aspired  to  no  such  abdication. 
Her  foresight  discerned,  with  fatal  clearness,  the 
clash  of  their  opposing  forces,  accentuated  by  the 
permanent  contrast  of  their  tastes  and  dispositions. 
The  master  of  Breysgate  Priory  might  again  break 
Lady  Aspenick's  whip  or  insult  the  Mayor  of  Cats- 
ford!  Trifles  from  one  point  of  view,  but  Jenny  would 
not  have  such  things  done.  They  were  fatal  to  popu- 
larity and  to  power;  they  broke  up  her  life  as  she 
had  planned  it.  There  would  arise  an  inevitable  con- 
flict. In  victory  for  herself — even  in  that — she  saw 
misery.  But  she  could  not  believe  in  victory.  She  was 
afraid. 

Then  she  must  let  him  go.  She  had  the  conviction 
clear  at  last;  her  delicate  equipoise — the  ignorance 
of  Fillingford  against  Octon's  suspicious  but  hope- 
ful doubt — her  having  it  both  ways,  could  not  be 
maintained  forever.  Sentence  was  passed  on  Octon. 
I  think  that  in  his  heart  he  must  have  known  it.  But 
her  fascination  pleaded  with  her  for  a  long  day — that 
the  sentence  should  not  be  executed  yet.  To  deter- 
mine  to   do  it   was  one  thing;  doing   it   was  quite 


178  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

another.  Day  by  day  she  must  have  debated  "  Shall  it 
be  to-morrow?  "  Day  after  day  she  delayed  and  dal- 
lied. Day  after  day  she  saw  him;  whether  they  met 
at  Ivydene  with  Powers  for  sentinel,  or  whether  she 
seized  her  chance  to  slip  across  from  Ivydene  to 
Hatcham  Ford,  I  know  not.  However  that  may  be 
— and  it  matters  little — every  afternoon  she  went 
down  to  Ivydene — to  transact  Institute  business — 
between  tea  and  dinner.  Late  for  business?  Yes — but 
Fillingford  came  earlier  in  the  afternoons — and  now 
it  grew  dark  early.  A  carriage  or  a  car  took  her — 
but  she  never  kept  it  waiting.  She  always  came  home 
on  foot  in  the  gathering  darkness. 

After  her  one  explicit  confidence,  "  The  signal's  at 
Danger,"  she  became  unapproachable  on  the  subject 
which  filled  alike  her  thoughts  and  mine.  Hence  a 
certain  distance  came  between  us  in  spite  of  her 
affectionate  kindness.  There  were  no  more  morning 
rides;  she  went  only  once  or  twice  herself;  I  did  not 
know  whether  she  met  Lacey.  I  was  less  often  at  lunch 
and  dinner.  We  confined  ourselves  more  to  our  offi- 
cial relations.  We  were  both  awkwardly  conscious 
of  a  forbidden  or  suppressed  subject — one  that  could 
not  be  approached  to  any  good  purpose  unless  con- 
fidence was  to  be  open  and  thorough.  To  that  length 
she  would  not — perhaps  could  not — go;  she  had  to 
fight  her  battle  alone.  Only  once  she  came  near  to 
referring  to  the  position  of  affairs,  then  no  more 
than  indirectly. 

"  You  looked  rather  fagged  and  worried,"  she  said 
one  day.  "  Why  don't  you  take  a  little  holiday,  and 
come  back  when  things  are  settled?  " 


SAVING   A    WEEK  179 

"  Would  you  rather  I  went  away  for  a  bit?  I  want 
you  to  tell  me  the  truth." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered  with  evident  sincerity,  al- 
most with  eagerness.  "  I  like  to  have  you  here."  She 
smiled.  "  Somebody  to  catch  me  if  I  fall!  "  Then,  with 
a  quickness  that  prevented  any  answer  or  comment 
of  mine,  she  returned  to  our  business. 

So  I  stayed  and  watched — there  was  nothing  else 
to  do.  If  anybody  objects  that  the  spectacle  which  I 
watched  was  not  a  pleasant  one,  I  will  not  argue  with 
him.  If  anyone  asserts  that  it  was  not  a  moral  one, 
not  tending  to  edification,  I  may  perhaps  have  to 
concede  the  point.  I  can  only  plead  that  to  me  it  was 
interesting — painful,  perhaps,  but  interesting.  I  be- 
lieved that  she  would  win;  we  who  were  about  her 
got  into  the  way  of  expecting  her  to  win.  We  looked 
for  some  mistakes,  but  we  looked  also  for  dexterous 
recoveries  and  ultimate  victories  won  even  in  the  face 
of  odds.  I  will  volunteer  one  more  confession — I 
wanted  her  to  win — to  win  the  respite  she  craved 
without  detection  and  without  disaster.  The  stern- 
ness of  morality  is  apt  to  weaken  before  the  appeal 
of  a  gallant  fight — valor  of  spirit,  and  dexterity, 
and  resource  in  maneuver.  We  forget  the  merits  of 
the  cause  in  the  pluck  of  the  combatant.  As  I  be- 
lieved, as  I  hoped,  that  Jenny  would  win,  I  also 
hoped  that  she  would  not  take  too  great,  too  long,  a 
risk.  The  signal  pointed  straighter  to  "  Danger " 
every  day. 

Chat — whom  I  have  been  in  danger  of  forgetting, 
though  I  am  sure  I  mean  her  no  disrespect — had  her 
work  in  the  campaign.  It  was  to  create  diversions, 


180  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

to  act  as  buffer,  to  cover  up  Jenny's  tracks  when  that 
was  necessary,  to  give  plausible  reasons  for  Jenny's 
movements  when  such  were  needed;  above  all,  deli- 
cately to  imply  to  the  neighborhood  that  the  Filling- 
ford  matter  was  all  right — only  they  must  give  Miss 
Driver  time!  Chat  was  a  loyal,  nay,  rabid  Octonite 
herself,  but  she  was  also  a  faithful  hound.  She  obeyed 
orders — and  obeyed  them  with  a  certain  skill.  On 
the  subject  of  Jenny's  shrinking  timidity  when  faced 
with  an  offer  of  marriage,  Chat  was  beautifully  con- 
vincing— I  heard  her  do  the  trick  once  for  Mrs. 
Jepps's  edification.  The  ladies  were  good  enough  not 
to  make  a  stranger  of  me.  Mrs.  Jepps,  I  may  observe 
in  passing,  took  a  healthy — and  somewhat  imperious 
— interest  in  one's  marriage,  and  one's  means,  and 
so  on,  as  well  as  in  one's  religious  opinions. 

"Always  the  same  from  a  girl,  Mrs.  Jepps!  "  said 
Chat.  "  And  after  five  years  of  her  I  ought  to  know. 
I  assure  you  we  couldn't  get  her  to  speak  to  a  young 
man!" 

"  Very  unusual  with  girls  nowadays,"  observed 
Mrs.  Jepps. 

"Ah,  our  little  village  wasn't  like  Catsford!  We 
were,  I  suppose  you'd  call  it,  behind  the  times  there. 
I  had  been  brought  up  on  the  old  lines,  and  I  incul- 
cated them  on  my  pupils.  But,  as  I  say,  with  Jenny 
there  was  no  need.  The  difficulty  was  the  other  way. 
Why,  I  remember  a  very  nice  young  fellow,  named 
Maunders  (was  Maunders  Rabbit,  I  wondered),  who 
paid  her  such  nice  attentions — so  respectful!  (Maun- 
ders was  Rabbit,  depend  upon  it!)  She  used  to  be 
angry  with  him — positively  angry,  Mrs.  Jepps."  Chat 


SAVING   A    WEEK  181 

nodded  sagely.  "  Comparing  small  things  and  great, 
it's  the  same  thing  here."  Thus  did  Chat  transform 
into  girlish  coyness  Jenny's  masterful  grip  on  liberty! 

"  It's  possible  to  carry  it  too  far.  Then  it  looks  like 
shilly-shallying,"  said  Mrs.  Jepps. 

"  She  does  carry  it  too  far,"  Chat  hastened  to  ad- 
mit candidly.  "  Much  too  far.  Why,  between  our- 
selves, I  tell  her  so  every  day."  (Oh,  oh,  Chat,  as  if 
you  dared!)  "  I  try  to  use  some  of  my  old  author- 
ity." Chat  smiled  playfully  over  this. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Jepps,  rising  to  go,  "  I  suppose 
the  poor  man's  got  to  put  up  with  anything  from 
sixty  thousand  a  year!" 

In  that  remark  Mrs.  Jepps,  shrewdly  unconvinced 
by  Chat's  convincing  precedent,  hit  off  the  growing 
feeling  of  the  neighborhood — the  feeling  of  whose 
growth  Fillingford  had  begun  to  be  afraid.  He  be- 
lieved that  all  communication  with  Octon  had  been 
broken  off;  he  had  never  considered  Octon  as  a  rival. 
He  saw  no  ostensible  reason  for  Jenny's  hesitation; 
he  was  either  sure  that  she  would  say  yes  if  forced  to 
an  answer,  or  he  made  up  his  mind  at  last  to  take 
the  risk.  He  came  over  to  Breysgate  Priory  with  a 
formal  offer  and  the  demand  for  a  formal  answer. 

Needless  to  say,  he  did  not  confide  this  fact  to  me, 
but  I  had  information  really  as  good  as  first-hand. 
On  the  day  in  question  I  was  sitting  reading  in  my 
own  house  after  lunch  when,  with  a  perfunctory 
knock,  young  Lacey  put  his  head  in  at  the  door. 

'  Got  any  tobacco  and  a  drink,  Mr.  Austin?  We've 
walked  over.  I've  dropped  the  governor  up  the  hill" 

I  welcomed  him,  provided  him  with  what  he  want- 


i82  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

ed,  and  sat  him  down  by  the  fire;  it  was  late  autumn 
now  and  chilly.  He  was  looking  amused  in  a  re- 
flective sort  of  way. 

"  I  say,  I  suppose  you're  pretty  well  in  the  know 
up  there,  aren't  you?  "  He  nodded  in  the  direction 
of  the  Priory.  "  Not  much  danger  of  the  governor 
slipping  up,  is  there?  Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean! 
There's  no  reason  you  and  I  shouldn't  talk  about  it." 

"  Perhaps  I  do,  Lord  Lacey.  Your  father's  at  the 
Priory  now?  " 

"  I've  just  left  him  there.  It's  a  bit  odd  to  do  bot- 
tleholder  for  one's  governor  on  these  occasions.  It'd 
seem  more  natural  the  other  way,  wouldn't  it?  ': 

"  Depends  a  bit  on  the  relative  ages,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  that's  it.  The  governor's  getting 
on,  though."  He  looked  across  at  me.  "  He's  a  gen- 
tleman, though.  The  way  he  told  Aunt  Sarah  and 
me  about  it  was  good — quite  good.  He  said  his  mind 
had  been  made  up  for  some  time,  but  he  couldn't 
formally  take  such  a  step  without  discovering  the 
feelings  of  the — well,  he  called  us  something  pleas- 
ant— the  people  who'd  lived  with  him  and  done  so 
much  for  his  happiness  for  so  many  years,  ever  since 
mother — '  your  dear  mother,'  he  said — died.  So  he 
told  us  what  he  was  going  to  do,  and  asked  our  good 
wishes.  Rather  straight  of  him,  don't  you  think?  ': 

'  I  should  always  expect  the  straight  thing  of 
him,"  I  said. 

"  Yes — and  that'll  suit  her  at  all  events."  (Did  he 
unintentionally  hint  that  some  other  things  would 
not?)  "She's  straight  as  a  die,  isn't  she?  Look  at  the 
Straight  way  she's  treated  me!  As  soon  as  she  saw 


SAVING   A    WEEK  183 

me — well,  inclined  to  be — oh,  you  know! — she  put  it 
all  straight  directly;  and  we're  the  best  of  pals — I'd 
go  through  fire  and  water  for  her — and  I  wished  the 
old  governor  luck  with  all  my  heart." 

"  I'm  delighted  to  hear  you  feel  like  that  about 
it — I  really  am.  And  I'm  sure  Miss  Driver  would  be, 
too.  I  hope  Lady  Sarah  is  equally  pleased?  " 

His  blue  eyes  twinkled.  "  You  needn't  put  that  on 
for  me,  Austin,"  he  remarked,  with  a  pleasant  lapse 
into  greater  intimacy.  "  I  imagine  Aunt  Sarah's  feel- 
ings are  no  secret!  However,  she  said  all  the  proper 
things  and  pecked  the  governor's  cheek.  Couldn't  ask 
more,  could  you?"  He  laughed  as  he  stretched  his 
shapely  gaitered  legs  before  the  fire.  "  After  all, 
there'll  be  two  pretty  big  houses — Fillingford  and 
Breysgate!  Room  for  all!  " 

"  You'll  be  wanting  one  presently." 

"  I  shall  live  with  the  old  folks — I  say,  how'd  Miss 
Driver  like  to  hear  that? — till  I  get  married — which 
won't  be  for  a  long  while,  I  hope.  Then  we'll  set 
Aunt  Sarah  up  at  Hatcham  Ford.  Octon  will  be  gone 
by  then,  I  hope!  I  saw  the  fellow  in  the  town  the 
other  day.  I  wonder  he  doesn't  go.  It  can't  be  pleas- 
ant to  stop  in  a  place  where  you're  cut!  " 

"  Octon  has  his  own  resources,  I  daresay." 

'Sorry  for  the  resources!"  Lacey  remarked.  ".I 
say,  how  long  ought  we  to  give  the  governor?  " 

"  Don't  hurry  matters." 

"  It  can't  take  very  long,  can  it?  The  governor 
means  to  settle  it  out  of  hand;  he  almost  said  as 
much." 

"  But  then  there's  the  lady.  Perhaps  she " 


1 84  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Between  ourselves,  I  fancy  he  thinks  he's  waited 
long  enough." 

I  had  the  same  impression,  but  my  mind  had  wan- 
dered back  to  another  point. 

"  When  did  you  see  Octon?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  trotted  Aunt  Sarah  down  to  that  place — what's 
it  called? — where  the  Institute  offices  are.  Aunt 
Sarah's  got  very  keen  on  the  Institute;  she  must 
mean  to  queer  it  somehow,  I  think!  Well,  Octon  was 
there,  talking  to  the  clerk.  She  cut  him  dead,  of 
course — marched  by  the  pair  of  them  with  her  head 
up.  Powers  ran  after  her,  and  I  addressed  an  obser- 
vation to  Octon.  You  remember  that  little  spar  we 
had?  " 

"  At  the  Flower  Show?  Yes,  I  remember." 

"  I  was  a  bit  fresh  then,"  he  confessed  candidly, 
"  and  perhaps  he  wasn't  so  far  wrong  to  sit  on  me. 
But  the  beggar's  got  a  rough  way  of  doing  it.  Well, 
it  didn't  seem  civil  to  say  nothing,  so  I  said,  '  I 
haven't  had  that  thrashing  yet,  and  I'm  getting  a  bit 
too  big  for  it,  like  you,  Mr.  Octon.'  " 

"Was  that  your  idea  of  something  civil?"  I  felt 
constrained  to  ask. 

"  He  didn't  mind,"  Lacey  assured  me.  "  But  he 
said  a  funny  thing.  He  grinned  at  me  quite  kindly 
and  said,  '  You're  just  coming  to  the  size  for  some- 
thing much  worse.'  What  do  you  think  he  meant  by 
that,  Austin?  " 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea." 

"  He's  a  bounder — at  least  he  must  be,  or  he'd 
never  have  done  that  to  Susie  Aspenick;  but  he's 
got  his  points,  I  think.  I  tell  you  what,  I  shouldn't 


SAVING   A    WEEK  185 

80  much  mind  serving  under  him.  One  don't  mind 
being-  sat  on  by  the  C.  O." 

'  What  was  happening  between  Lady  Sarah  and 
Powers  all  this  time?  "  I  asked. 

"Lord  bless  you,  I  don't  know!"  he  answered 
scornfully.  "  Institute,  I  suppose!  I  should  be  in- 
clined to  call  the  Institute  rot  if  Miss  Driver  wasn't 
founding  it.  At  any  rate  Aunt  Sarah  and  Powers — 
rather  like  a  beach  photographer,  isn't  he? — seem  as 
thick  as  thieves."  He  finished  off  his  whisky  and 
soda.  "  Well,  women  must  do  something,  I  suppose," 
he  remarked.  "  Shall  we  go  and  beat  up  the  gov- 
ernor? " 

He  was  impatient.  I  yielded,  although  I  did  not 
think  that  "  the  governor  "  would  be  ready  for  us 
yet;  I  thought  that,  if  Lord  Fillingford  was  to  gain 
his  cause  that  afternoon,  he  was  in  for  a  long  inter- 
view with  Jenny.  Evidently  Lacey  meant  to  wait.  I 
was  game  to  wait  with  him.  In  these  days  I  was  all 
suspicion — on  the  alert  for  danger.  It  made  me  un- 
easy to  hear  that  Lady  Sarah  and  Powers  were 
"  thick  as  thieves."  Mentally  I  paused  to  acknowl- 
edge the  exquisite  accuracy  of  Lacey's  "  beach  pho- 
tographer." On  the  genus  it  would  have  been  a  libel; 
for  the  species  it  was  exact.  I  saw  him  with  his  vel- 
veteens, his  hair,  his  collar — against  a  background 
of  paper-littered  sands  and  "nigger  minstrels  ";  the 
picture  recalled  childhood,  but  without  the  proper 
sentimental  appeal. 

I  was  right.  We  had  to  walk  up  and  down  the  ter- 
race in  front  of  the  house  for  a  long  while.  Lacey 
talked  all  the  time — his  views,  his  regiment,  sports, 


1 86  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

races,  what  not.  From  the  top  of  my  mind — the  sur- 
face responsive  to  externals — I  answered.  Within  I 
was  following  in  imagination  the  struggle  of  my  dear, 
wayward,  unreasonable  mistress — of  her  who  wanted 
both  ways,  who  would  lead  half  a  dozen  lives,  and 
unite  under  her  sway  kingdoms  between  which  there 
could  be  neither  union  nor  alliance. 

It  was  almost  five  o'clock  by  the  time  Fillingford 
came  out;  the  sun  had  begun  to  lose  power;  the 
peace  of  evening — and  something  of  its  chill — rested 
on  the  billowing  curves  of  turf  and  the  gently  sway- 
ing treetops.  As  we  saw  him  we  came  to  a  standstill, 
and  so  awaited  his  approach. 

Under  no  circumstances,  I  imagine,  could  Lord 
Fillingford  have  looked  radiant.  Even  any  overt  ap- 
pearance of  triumph  his  taste,  no  less  than  his  na- 
ture, would  have  rejected;  and  his  taste  was  infallible 
in  negatives.  Yet  on  his  face,  as  he  came  to  us,  there 
was  unmistakable  satisfaction;  he  had  done  quite  as 
well  as  he  had  expected — or  even  better.  I  was  glad 
— with  a  sharp  pang  of  sorrow  for  the  limitations 
of  human  gladness.  In  my  heart  I  should  have  been 
glad  for  Jenny  to  be  allowed  to  break  rules — to  have 
it  all  ways — as  she  wanted — for  as  long  as  she  want- 
ed. There  was  the  moral  slope  of  which  I  have  be- 
fore made  metaphorical  mention! 

He  greeted  me  with  a  cordiality  very  marked  for 
him,  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  son's  shoulder  affection- 
ately. "  I've  kept  you  a  terribly  long  time,  Amyas, 
and  we  mustn't  bother  Miss  Driver  any  more.  She's 
tired,  I  fear.  We'll  go  home  for  a  cup  of  tea." 

Lacey  was  excited  and  anxious,  but  he  knew  his 


SAVING    A    WEEK  187 

father  better  than  to  put  even  the  most  veiled  ques- 
tion to  him  in  my  presence. 

"  All  right,  sir.  Austin's  been  looking  after  me  first- 
rate." 

I  could  not  be  mistaken;  a  touch  of  ownership 
over  me — the  hint  of  a  right  to  approve  of  me — 
came  into  Fillingford's  voice.  I  seemed  to  feel  myself 
adopted  as  a  retainer — or,  at  least,  my  past  services 
to  one  of  the  family  acknowledged. 

"  I'm  sure  Mr.  Austin  is  always  most  kind." 

The  impression  was  subtle,  but  it  confirmed,  more 
than  anything  that  had  yet  happened,  my  certainty 
of  Jenny's  answer.  I  had  further  confirmation  the 
next  moment.  He  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  terrace, 
his  arm  through  his  son's,  and  looked  over  the 
view. 

"A  fine  position!"  he  said.  "If  it  had  been  the 
fashion  to  build  on  the  top  of  a  hill  three  centuries 
ago,  we  should  have  put  the  house  here,  I  suppose, 
instead  of  selling  to  the  Dormers.  It  was  part  of 
our  land  originally,  you  know,  Mr.  Austin."  He 
pulled  himself  up  with  a  laugh.  "  A  feudal  lord's 
reminiscences!  We  do  well  enough  if  we  can  keep 
what  we've  got  nowadays — without  regretting  what 
we  used  to  have.  Come  along,  Amyas,  or  your  aunt 
will  have  given  us  up  for  tea! " 

He  had  sought  to  correct  the  impression  he  had 
given — to  withdraw  the  idea  implicit  in  his  words 
about  Breysgate  Priory;  yet  the  withdrawal  seemed 
formal,  made  in  deference  to  an  obligation  rather 
than  really  effective  or  important.  I  was  sure  that, 
as  he  trod  Breysgate  park  that  evening,  he  trod  the 


1 88  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

soil  as,  in  his  own  mind,  already  part  of  the  Filling- 
ford  domains.  The  most  reserved  of  men  cannot  but 
tell  something;  only  a  god  or  a  brute,  as  the  philoso- 
pher has  it,  can  be  absolutely  unrevealing.  If  Filling- 
ford  could  have  succeeded  in  attaining  to  that — and 
I  have  no  doubt  that  he  tried — his  son  would  have 
spoiled  the  mystery.  Familiarity  taught  him  to  read 
more  clearly  his  father's  visage.  His  face  beamed 
with  exultation;  as  he  had  "wished  the  governor 
luck  with  all  his  heart,"  now,  without  question, 
the  moment  I  was  out  of  hearing,  he  wished  him 
joy. 

I  went  in  to  Jenny,  without  stopping  to  think 
whether  she  had  bidden  me  come  or  not.  I  could 
not  keep  away;  it  even  seemed  to  be  something  like 
hypocrisy  to  keep  away  now  on  the  pretext  that  I 
had  not  been  expressly  summoned.  She  had  told  me 
that  she  liked  me  to  stay — as  "  somebody  to  catch 
her  if  she  fell."  That  was,  surely,  at  least  a  permission 
to  be  near  her? 

She  was  alone,  save  for  Loft  who  was  setting  out 
the  tea-tray  in  his  usual  deft,  speedy,  deliberate  way. 
She  sat  in  the  middle  of  the  sofa,  looking  straight 
in  front  of  her.  But  she  spoke  to  me  directly  I  came 
in,  while  Loft  and  the  footman  were  still  in  the  room. 

"  You've  just  missed  Lord  Fillingford.  Or  did  you 
see  him  as  he  went  away? 

"  Yes,  I  met  him  and  had  a  little  talk  with  him. 
Young  Lacey's  been  gossiping  with  me  most  of  the 
afternoon." 

Loft  must  have  wanted  to  hear,  but  you'd  never 
have    known   it!    He   withdrew,    imperturbable   and 


SAVING   A    WEEK  189 

serene.  I  think  that  Loft  should  be  added  to  the 
god  and  the  brute,  to  form  a  trinity  of  impeccable 
illegibility. 

At  a  sign  from  Jenny  I  took  my  tea  and  drank  it. 
She  sat  very  quiet,  exhausted  as  it  seemed,  yet  still 
thinking  hard.  I  did  not  speak. 

"A  long  call,  wasn't  it?"  she  said  at  last,  and  a 
faint  smile  flickered  on  her  lips. 

"  It  was — and  it  seemed  so,  I  daresay." 

"How  did  he  look?" 

"  Exceedingly  well-content.  And  Lacey  seemed 
most  contented  with  his  appearance." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  smiled  again 
rather  contemptuously.  I  set  down  my  cup  and 
came  to  her.  "  Well,  good-night,  Lady  Jenny,"  I 
said. 

She  looked  up  at  me  and  suddenly  spoke  out  the 
truth — in  a  hard  voice,  bitter  and  resentful. 

"  With  prayers  and  vows — yes,  and  tears,"  she 
said,  "  I've  saved  a  week." 

"  Before  you  give  your  answer?  " 

"  No.  The  answer  is  given.  Before  the  engagement 
is  announced." 

"  If  you've  given  your  answer,  announce  it  to- 
night." 

She  did  not  resent  my  counsel.  But  she  shook  her 
head.  "  I've  fought  that  battle  with  him  already.  I — 
I  can't."  She  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet  and  stood  be- 
fore me.  "  I've  done  it.  I've  managed  to  do  it.  It's 
done — and  I  stand  by  it.  But  not  to-day!  I  must  have 
a  week."  She  stretched  out  her  hands  to  me  in  ap- 
peal; there  was  a  curious  mixture  of  mockery  and  of 


i9o  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

passion  in  her  voice.  She  mocked  me  for  certain — 
perhaps  she  mocked  herself,  too;  yet  she  was  strongly 
moved.  "  Dear  old,  kind,  little-understanding  Austin, 
you  must  give  poor  Jenny  Driver  her  last  week!  " 

The  last  week,  which  she  must  have,  did  all  the 
mischief. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE  BOY  WITH  THE  RED  CAP 

JENNY  had  failed  with  Powers;  that  seemed  to 
be  the  state  of  the  case — or,  at  least,  her  suc- 
cess was  so  precarious  as  to  put  her  whole 
position  in  extreme  peril.  Neither  storm  nor  sun- 
shine, neither  wrath  nor  cajolery,  had  won  him  se- 
curely. Behind  each  he  could  discern  its  true  object 
— to  gain  time,  to  tide  over.  When  Jenny  had  finished 
her  equivocal  proceedings,  when  she  had  settled  down 
either  to  Fillingford  or  to  Octon — Octon's  success 
must  still  have  seemed  a  possibility  to  the  accom- 
plice of  their  meetings — what  would  she  do  with  her 
equally  equivocal  partner?  Reward  him?  Yes,  if  she 
had  trusted  him.  He  knew  very  well  that  she  trusted 
him  no  longer;  her  threats  and  her  wheedling  com- 
bined to  prove  it.  Presumably  Mr.  Powers  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  parable  of  The  Unjust  Steward;  he, 
too,  was  a  child  of  this  world — indeed  his  earthly 
parentage  was  witnessed  to  beyond  the  common  by 
his  moral  features.  What  should  he  do  when  he  was 
no  longer  steward,  when  Jenny  was  safely  wedded 
to  Fillingford,  or  had  thrown  off,  of  her  own  motive 
or  on  compulsion,  all  secrecy  about  Octon?  Lady 
Sarah    should    receive — or   at   least   introduce — him 

191 


192  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

into  a  comfortable  habitation  and  put  money  in  his 
pocket  to  pay  its  rent.  Jenny  had  overrated  her 
domination;  and  she  had  forgotten  that  rogues  are 
apt  not  to  know  when  they  are  well  off.  Even  when 
their  own  pockets  are  snugly  lined,  a  pocket  un- 
picked is  a  challenge  and  a  temptation. 

Lady  Sarah's  conduct  is  sufficiently  accounted 
for  by  most  praiseworthy  motives — moral  principle, 
family  pride,  loyalty  to  her  brother.  Let,  then,  no 
others  be  imputed.  Bu{  if  Jenny  would  not  credit 
these  to  her,  well,  there  were  others  of  which  she 
might  have  thought.  She  had  chosen  not  to  think  of 
Lady  Sarah  at  all — in  connection  with  Powers  at  all 
events.  The  very  omission  might  stand  as  a  compli- 
ment to  Lady  Sarah,  but  Jenny  was  not  the  person 
who  could  afford  to  pay  it;  her  own  safety  and  honor 
still  rested  in  those  unclean  hands. 

The  last  days — the  week  of  Jenny's  hard-won  res- 
pite— passed  for  us  at  Breysgate  like  the  interval 
between  the  firing  of  a  fuse  and  the  explosion.  How 
would  it  go?  Clear  away  obstacles  and  open  the  adit 
to  profitable  working?  Or  blow  all  the  mine  to  ruins, 
and  engulf  the  engineer  in  the  debris?  Nerves  were 
on  trial  and  severely  tried.  Chat  was  in  flutters  be- 
yond description.  I  do  not  suppose  that  I  myself  was 
a  cheerful  companion.  Jenny  was  steel,  but  the  steel 
was  red-hot. 

At  last— the  last  day!  Jenny's  week  of  respite  drew 
to  its  end.  Be  sure  I  had  counted!  But  if  I  had  not, 
Octon  himself  came,  most  welcomely,  to  announce 
it.  With  a  mighty  relief  I  heard  him  say,  as  he  threw 
himself  into  my  armchair  at  the  Old  Priory,  "  I've 


THE    BOY    WITH    THE    RED    CAP     193 
just  dropped  in  to  say  good-by,  Austin.  I'm  off  to- 


morrow." 


"  Off?  Where  to?  "  I  had  sooner  have  asked  "  For 
how  long?  "  His  reply  answered  both  questions. 

"  Right  out  of  this  hole — for  good."  He  smiled. 
"  So,  for  once,  I  chanced  meeting  Lady  Aspenick 
again  in  the  park."  He  took  up  the  poker  and  began 
to  dig  and  prod  my  coals:  all  through  our  talk  he 
held  the  poker,  now  digging  and  prodding,  now 
using  it  to  emphasize  his  words  with  a  point  or  a 
wave.  "  I'm  done  with  here,  Austin.  I've  played  a 
game  that  I  never  thought  I  should  play  again — and 
I've  come  to  feel  as  if  I'd  never  played  it  before. 
I've  played  it  with  all  the  odds  against  me,  and  I've 
made  a  good  fight." 

"  Yes,  too  good,"  I  said. 

"  Aye,  aye!  But  I've  lost.  So  I'm  off."  He  lay  back 
in  the  big  chair — the  same  one  in  which  Lacey  had 
stretched  his  graceful,  lithe  young  body — and  looked 
up  at  me  where  I  stood  on  the  rug.  "  There's  not 
much  more  to  say,  is  there?  I  thought  I'd  say  that 
much  to  you  because  you're  a  good  fellow." 

"  And  you're  not,"  I  retorted  angrily — (Remem- 
ber our  nerves!)  "  Have  you  no  care  for  what  you 
love?" 

"Am  I  so  much  the  worse  man  of  the  two?  "  he 
asked. 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?  Well,  thank  God 
you're  going  to-morrow!  " 

'  Everybody  always  thanks  God  when  I  go,  and  I 
generally  thank  Him  myself — but  not  to-day,  per- 
haps." His  next  prod  at  the  coals  in  the  grate  was 


i94  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

a  vicious  one.  "  I  suppose  that  some  day  there'll  be 
a  general  feeling  that  I  must  be  wiped  out — an  in- 
stinctive revolt  against  my  existence,  Austin.  This 
neighborhood  has  felt  the  thing  already.  Some  day 
it  will  be  felt  where  stronger  measures  than  cutting 
are  in  fashion.  Then  I  shall  be  killed.  Perhaps  I  shall 
kill,  too,  but  they'll  get  me  in  the  end,  depend  upon 
it!"  Suddenly  he  smiled  in  a  tender  reflective  way. 
"  That  was  what  poor  little  Madge  was  always  so 
afraid  of.  Well,  I  had  a  good  deal  to  try  my  temper 
while  she  was  with  me."  He  looked  up  at  me,  smiling 
now  in  mockery.  "  Don't  be  shocked,  my  excellent 
Austin.  I'm  talking  about  my  wife." 

"Your  wife!"  I  cried  in  utter  surprise  and  con- 
sternation. 

That  was  exactly  the  effect  he  intended  to  produce 
and  enjoyed  producing.  Amidst  all  his  distress  he 
found  leisure  to  indulge  his  taste  for  administering 
shocks. 

"  You've  always  thought  of  me  as  a  bachelor, 
haven't  you?  I  suppose  everybody  thinks  so — except 
one  person.  Well,  it's  no  affair  of  theirs,  and  they've 
never  chosen  to  inquire.  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you, 
but  the  reference  to  her  slipped  out." 

"  You've  had  a  wife  all  this  time?  "  I  gasped,  sink- 
ing into  a  chair  opposite  to  him. 

He  laughed  openly  at  me.  "  Poor  old  Austin!  No, 
it's  not  Powers  over  again."  (So  he  knew  about 
Powers!)  "The  poor  child's  been  dead  these  twelve 
years." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  impatiently.  '  Does  it 
really  amuse  you  to  play  the  fool  just  now?  ' 


THE    BOY    WITH    THE    RED    CAP     195 

"  It  amused  me  to  make  you  jump."  He  watched 
me  with  a  malicious  grin  for  half  a  minute,  then  fell 
to  prodding  the  coals  again.  "  We  were  boy  and  girl 
— and  I  had  only  two  years  with  her,  and  during  that 
time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  nearly  starve. 
I  had  no  money  and  got  very  little  work;  in  the  usual 
way  of  things,  I  came  into  my  little  bit  of  money — 
it's  precious  little — too  late.  She  was  very  pretty 
and  a  good  girl,  but  not  a  lady  by  birth — no,  not  a 
lady,  Austin.  Consequently  my  folk — my  respectable 
well-to-do  folk — left  her  pretty  nearly  to  starve — and 
me  to  look  on  at  it.  That's  among  the  reasons  why 
I'm  so  fond  of  respectable  well-to-do  people,  why  I 
have  a  natural  inclination  to  acquiesce  in  their  claim 
to  all  the  virtues." 

"  Does  Miss  Driver  know  this?" 

"  Yes."  He  paused  a  moment.  "  She  knows  this — 
and  a  little  more — which  may  or  may  not  turn  out 
material  some  day." 

These  words  started  my  alarm  afresh.  Did  he  mean 
still  to  be  in  touch  with  Jenny,  still  to  keep  up  com- 
munication with  her — a  hold  on  her — even  though 
he  went?  If  that  were  so,  there  was  no  end  in  sight, 
and  no  peace.  The  next  instant  he  relieved  me  from 
that  fear  by  adding  in  a  low  pensive  voice,  "  But  not 
while  I  live;  we  know  each  other  no  more  after  to- 
day." 

Our  eyes  met  again.  He  nodded  at  me,  confirming 
his  last  words.  "  You  may  rely  on  that,"  he  seemed 
to  say. 

"  Do  you  leave  by  an  early  train  to-morrow?  "  I 
asked. 


196  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Yes — first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"  By  this  time  to-morrow  I  shall  feel  very  kindly 
toward  you,  Octon,  and  the  more  kindly  for  what 
you've  told  me  to-day." 

"  I  believe  you  will,  and  I  understand  the  deferred 
payment  of  your  love."  He  smiled  at  me  again. 
"  You're  true  to  your  salt,  and  I  suppose  you're  a  bit 
in  love  yourself,  though  you  don't  seem  to  know 
anything  about  it.  Well,  take  care  of  her — take  care 
of  this  great  woman." 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  her  to  you.  I  don't 
see  the  good  of  it." 

"  You  ought  to  want  to,  because  I  understand  her. 

But  since  you  don't "  He  dropped  the  poker  with 

a  clatter  and  reared  himself  to  his  height.  "  I'd  bet- 
ter go,  for,  as  heaven's  above  us,  I  can  talk  and  think 
of  nothing  else — till  to-morrow." 

"  Where  are  you  going  to?  " 

"  Into  the  dark  " — he  laughed  gruffly — "  Conti- 
nent. Did  my  melodrama  alarm  you?  Not  that  it's 
dark  any  longer — more's  the  pity!  It's  not  very  likely 
we  shall  meet  again  this  side  the  Styx."  He  held  out 
his  hand  to  me  with  a  genuinely  friendly  air. 

"  We're  both  young!  "  I  said  as  I  clasped  his  hand. 
In  the  end,  still,  I  liked  him,  and  his  story  had 
moved  me  to  a  new  pity.  It  was  all  of  a  piece  with 
his  perversity  that  he  should  have  hidden  so  long 
his  strongest  claim  to  sympathy. 

"  I  could  have  been  young,"  he  answered.  "  And 
that  stiff  fool  can't."  He  squeezed  my  hand  to  very 
pain  before  he  dropped  it.  "  A  great  woman  and  a 
good    fellow — well,    in   this   hole  it's   something   to 


THE    BOY    WITH    THE    RED    CAP     197 

have  met!  As  for  the  rest  of  them — the  fate  of 
Laodicea,  I  think!  " 

"  You're  so  wrong,  you  know." 

"  Yes?  As  usual?  In  the  end  I  shall  certainly  be 
stamped  out!  "  He  shook  his  head  with  a  whimsically 
humorous  gravity.  "  Part  of  the  objection  to  me  is 
simply  because  I'm  so  large." 

That  was  actually  true  when  I  came  to  think  of  it. 
His  size  seemed  an  oppression — a  perpetual  threat — 
in  itself  a  form  of  bullying.  Small  men  could  have 
said  the  things  he  did  with  only  half  the  offense;  the 
other  half  lay  in  his  physical  security. 

"  Try  to  counteract  that  by  improving  your  man- 
ners," I  said,  smiling  at  him  in  a  friendly  amuse- 
ment. 

"  Let  the  grizzly  bear  put  on  silk  knee-breeches — 
wouldn't  he  look  elegant?  Good-by,  Austin.  Take 
care  of  her!  " 

"  Since  you  say  that  again — you  know  I  would — 
with  my  life." 

"  And  I — to  my  death.  And  I  seem  to  die  to-day." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  said  to  that.  We  walked 
out  into  the  open  air  together.  I  rejoiced  that  he 
was  going,  and  yet  was  sad.  Something  of  what 
Jenny  felt  was  upon  me  then — the  interest  of  him, 
the  challenge  to  try  and  to  discover,  the  greatness  of 
the  effort  to  influence,  the  audacity  of  the  notion  of 
ruling.  The  danger  of  him — and  his  bulk!  A  Dark 
Continent  he  seemed  in  himself!  I  could  not  but  be 
sorry  that  my  little  ship  was  now  to  lose  sight  of 
the  coasts  of  it.  But  there  was  a  nobler  craft — 
almost   driven  on  to   its   rocks,    still  tossing  in   its 


198  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

breakers.  For  her  a  fair  wind  off  land  and  an  open 
sea! 

As  we  stood  before  my  door,  I  awaiting  Octon's 
departure,  he  perhaps  loath  to  look  his  last  on  a  scene 
which  must  carry  for  him  such  significance,  I  saw 
Lacey  coming  toward  me  on  horseback.  He  beck- 
oned to  me  in  token  that  he  wanted  me. 

"Ah,  an  opportunity  for  another  good-by!"  said 
Octon  grimly. 

Lacey  brought  his  horse  to  a  stand  by  us,  but  did 
not  dismount. 

"  I'm  trespassing,  I'm  afraid,  Lord  Lacey!  My 
being  in  this  park  is  against  the  law,  isn't  it?  " 

Octon's  opening  was  not  very  conciliatory,  but 
Lacey's  good-humor  was  proof  against  him.  More- 
over the  lad  looked  preoccupied. 

"  I'm  not  out  for  a  row  to-day,  Mr.  Octon,"  he 
said.  "  I  want  just  one  word  with  you,  Austin." 

"  Then  I'll  be  off,"  said  Octon.  He  nodded  to  me; 
he  did  not  offer  to  shake  hands  again. 

"  I'll  come  and  see  you  off  to-morrow  morning. 
The  eleven-five,  I  suppose?  '"  That  was  the  fast  train 
to  London. 

"  Yes.  All  right,  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you.  To 
Lord  Lacey — and  his  friends — this  is  good-by." 

"  You're  going  away?  "  asked  Lacey,  joy  and  re- 
lief plain  in  his  voice. 

"  Yes.     You  seem  very  glad." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  young  Lacey,  "  but  I  mean  no 
offense,  Mr.  Octon." 

Their  eyes  met  fair  and  square.  I  expected  an 
angry  outburst  from  Octon,  but  none  came;  his  look 


THE    BOY    WITH    THE    RED    CAP     199 

was  moody  again,  but  it  was  not  fierce.  He  looked 
restless  and  unhappy,  but  he  spoke  with  dignity. 

"  I  recognize  that.  I  take  no  offense.  Good-by, 
Lord  Lacey."  With  a  slight  lift  of  his  hat,  courte- 
ously responded  to  by  Lacey,  he  turned  his  back  on 
us  and  walked  away  with  his  heavy  slouching  gait, 
his  head  sunk  low  on  his  shoulders.  We  watched  him 
go  for  a  moment  or  two  in  silence. 

"  Is  he  going  for  good?  "  Lacey  asked  me. 

"  Yes,  to-morrow." 

He  seemed  to  consider  something  within  himself. 
"  Then  I  don't  know  that  I  really  need  trouble  you. 
It's  a  delicate  matter  and — "  He  beat  his  leg  with 
his  crop,  frowning  thoughtfully.  "  I  wonder,  Austin, 
whether  you're  aware  how  matters  stand  between 
Miss  Driver  and  my  father? "  His  use  of  '  my 
father  "  instead  of  "  the  governor  "  was  a  significant 
mark  of  his  seriousness. 

"  Yes,  she  told  me." 

"  My  father  told  me.  To-morrow  is  the  day  for 
the  announcement.  Austin,  the  last  two  or  three 
days  my  father  has  been  very  worried  and  upset. 
Aunt  Sarah's  been  at  him  about  something.  I'm 
sure  it's  about — about  Miss  Driver.  I  can  tell  it  is 
by  the  way  they  both  look  when  her  name's  men- 
tioned. And  I — I  tried  an  experiment.  At  lunch  to- 
day I  began  to  talk  about  that  fellow  Powers.  I  tried 
it  on  by  saying  I  thought  he  was  a  scoundrel  and 
that  I  hoped  Miss  Driver  would  give  him  the  sack. 
I  never  saw  a  man  look  up  with  such  a  start  as  my 
father  did.  Aunt  Sarah  was  ready  to  be  on  to  me, 
but  he  was  too  quick.  '  Why  do  you  say  that?  '  he 


200  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

snapped  out — eagerly,  you  know — as  if  he  was  un- 
commonly anxious  to  hear  my  reasons.  Well,  of 
course,  I'd  none  to  give,  only  my  impressions  of  the 
chap.  Aunt  Sarah  looked  triumphant  and  read  me 
a  lecture  on  envy,  malice,  and  all  uncharitableness. 
My  father  sat  staring  at  the  tablecloth,  but  listening 
hard  to  every  word.  Why  the  devil  should  my  father 
be  so  interested  in  Powers?  Can  you  tell  me  that, 
Austin?" 

"  No,  I  can't  tell  you,"  I  said,  "  but  I'm  much 
obliged  to  you  for  this — information." 

"  I  thought  there  would  be — well,  just  no  harm  in 
mentioning  it  to  you,"  he  said.  "  Of  course  it's  prob- 
ably all  right  really.  And  if  everything  is  settled,  and 
announced,  and  all  that,  to-morrow — and — "  He 
broke  off,  not  adding  in  words  what  there  was  no 
need  to  add — "  Octon  gone  to-morrow!  ': 

But  to-day  was  not  to-morrow.  Lady  Sarah  was 
at  work,  and  Fillingford  much  interested  in  Mr. 
Powers!  Worried,  upset,  and  very  much  interested 
in  Powers! 

Lacey  gathered  his  reins  and  prepared  to  be  off. 
"  Sorry  if  I've  meddled  in  what's  not  my  business," 
he  said.  "  But  I'm  ready  to  take  the  responsibility." 
That  was  permission  to  me  to  use  his  information, 
and  to  vouch  his  authority  to  Jenny.  He  nodded  to 
me.  "  See  you  to-morrow,  perhaps,  and  we'll  drink 
the  health  of  the  engaged  couple!"  He  smiled,  but 
he  looked  puzzled  and  not  very  happy,  rather  as 
though  he  were  hoping  for  the  best,  and  staving  off 
anticipation  of  some  hitch  or  misfortune. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  I  went  up  to  the  Priory. 


THE    BOY    WITH    THE    RED    CAP     201 

My  task  was  not  an  easy  one,  but  I  had  an  over- 
whelming feeling — a  feeling  which  refused  all  coun- 
ter-argument— that  it  was  necessary.  There  was  still 
this  one  evening — an  opportunity  for  a  last  bit  of 
recklessness,  and  Heaven  alone  knew  how  great  a 
temptation. 

Jenny  received  me  in  her  little  upstairs  sitting- 
room,  next  to  the  room  where  she  slept.  She  wore 
an  indoors  gown  and,  in  answer  to  my  formal  in- 
quiry, told  me  that  she  had  a  cold  and  was  feeling 
rather  "  seedy  " — not  a  common  admission  for  her 
to  make.  Then  I  went  to  work,  stumbling  at  my  awk- 
ward story — so  full  of  implied  accusation  against 
her,  if  it  were  not  utterly  unmeaning — under  the 
steady  thoughtful  gaze  of  her  eyes.  She  heard  me  to 
the  end  in  silence. 

"  If  that  rascal  is  trying  to  make  mischief,  if  he 
has  trumped  up  some  story — "  I  tried  so  to  put  it 
that  she  "could  feel  entitled  to  be  on  her  guard  with- 
out making  any  admissions. 

She  made  none,  and  offered  no  direct  comment  on 
the  story.  She  took  up  an  envelope  from  the  writing- 
table  by  her. 

"  This  is  my  formal  leave  to  Lord  Fillingford  to 
announce  our  engagement.  I  was  going  to  post  it 
to-night.  I'll  send  it  now  by  a  groom.  Please  ring 
the  bell  for  me,  Austin." 

Loft  appeared.  She  gave  him  the  letter  and  or- 
dered that  a  groom  should  take  it  to  Fillingford 
Manor  on  horseback.  Loft  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"  The  men  will  just  be  at  their  tea,  miss,"  he  said. 
It  was  now  about  half-past  four. 


202  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  It'll  do  in  half  an  hour's  time,"  she  answered. 
"  But  let  it  get  there  this  afternoon  without  fail." 

As  Loft  went  out,  she  turned  to  me.  "  There  now, 
that's  settled." 

Was  it?  There  was  still  to-night.  I  suspected  to- 
night desperately.  I  suspected  Jenny's  love  of  hav- 
ing it  both  ways  to  the  very  last  moment  that  she 
could.  I  suspected  the  strength  of  the  lure  toward 
Octon.  Whether  she  divined  my  suspicions  I  cannot 
tell.  She  went  on  in  her  simplest,  most  plausible 
way. 

"  Now  I'm  going  to  lie  down,  and  I'm  not  sure  I 
shall  get  up  again.  A  plate  of  soup  and  a  novel 
in  bed  look  rather  attractive!  And  I  must  get  a 
good  beauty-sleep — against  my  lord's  coming  to- 
morrow! " 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  me.  As  I  took  it  I  gave 
her  a  long  look.  The  bright  eyes  were  candid  and 
unembarrassed.  Yet  I  had  grave  doubts  whether 
Jenny  was  speaking  the  whole  truth — and  nothing 
but  it! 

On  the  stairs  I  encountered  Chat.  She  broke  out 
on  me  volubly  about  Jenny's  indisposition. 

"  You've  seen  our  poor  Jenny — the  poor  child? 
So  ill,  such  a  cold!  And  she  actually  wanted  to  go 
down  to  Catsford  to  see  Mr.  Bindlecombe  and  Mr. 
Powers  on  some  Institute  business!  As  if  she  was 
fit  to  go  out — a  raw  cold  evening,  too,  and  getting 
dark  so  much  earlier  nowadays!  At  any  rate  I  per- 
suaded her  out  of  that,  and  I  do  hope  she'll  be  sen- 
sible and  go  to  bed." 

"  So  do  I — very  much,  Miss  Chatters,"  I  replied. 


THE    BOY    WITH    THE    RED    CAP     203 

"  And  she's  just  given  me  to  understand  that  she 
means  to  do  it." 

"  That's  the  safe  thing,"  Chat  averred  with  em- 
phasis; and,  without  a  doubt,  she  was  perfectly  right 
— from  more  points  of  view  than  one.  In  bed  at 
Breysgate,  with  her  soup,  her  novel,  and  a  watch- 
ful maid  in  attendance,  Jenny  would  be  safe.  I 
did  not,  however,  need  quite  as  much  convincing 
of  it  as  Chat  seemed  disposed  to  administer  to 
me. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  do.  I  went  back  home, 
brewed  myself  a  cup  of  tea,  and  sat  down  to  write 
letters;  writing  letters  compels  an  attention  which 
would  wander  from  a  book.  I  had  an  accumulation 
to  answer,  some  on  my  own  account,  the  greater 
part  on  Jenny's  affairs,  and  I  worked  away  steadily 
till  it  was  nearly  seven  o'clock.  Then  I  was  suddenly 
interrupted  by  a  loud  knock  on  my  door.  As  I  rose, 
the  door  opened,  and  Lacey  was  again  before  me. 
He  was  still  in  riding  dress,  but  his  boots  were  cov- 
ered with  dust;  he  was  hot  and  out  of  breath.  He 
had  been  walking — walking  fast,  or  even  running. 
He  seemed  excited,  but  tried  to  smile  at  me. 

"Here  I  am  again!"  he  said.  "I  don't  know 
whether  I  am  a  fool,  Austin — I  hope  I  am — but 
there's  something  I  want  you  to  hear."  He  shut  the 
door  behind  him,  glanced  at  the  clock,  and  went  on 
quickly.  '  Do  you  know  a  sandy-haired  boy  who 
wears  a  red  cap  and  rides  a  girl's  bicycle?  ' 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  That's  Powers's  boy — Alban 
Powers." 

"  I  thought  I  remembered  the  young  beggar.  That 


2o4  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

boy  brought  a  note  up  to  Aunt  Sarah  while  we  were 
having  tea — about  a  quarter  past  five,  it  must  have 
been,  I  think.  Aunt  Sarah  pounced  on  the  note,  read 
it,  said  there  was  no  answer,  and  then  handed  the 
note  over  to  my  father.  '  Who's  it  from?  '  he  asked 
peevishly.  '  You'll  see  if  you  read  it,'  she  said.  I 
asked  if  I  was  de  trop,  but  my  father  signed  to  me 
to  sit  where  I  was.  He  read  the  note,  and  handed  it 
back  to  Aunt  Sarah.  'What  are  you  going  to  do?' 
she  asked.  '  Nothing,'  he  said.  She  pursed  up  her 
lips  and  shrugged  her  shoulders — she  made  it  pretty 
plain  what  she  thought  of  that  answer.  'Nothing!' 
she  sort  of  whispered,  throwing  her  eyes  up  to  the 
ceiling.  Then  he  broke  out:  '  I've  forbidden  the  sub- 
ject to  be  mentioned! ' — but  he  looked  very  unhappy 
and  uncomfortable.  Nobody  said  anything  for  a  bit; 
Aunt  Sarah  looked  obstinate-silent  and  my  father 
unhappy-silent.  I  tried  to  talk  about  something  or 
other,  but  it  was  no  good.  Then  the  man  came  in  with 
another  note,  saying  a  groom  had  brought  it  for  his 
lordship.  Well,  he  read  that — and  it  seemed  to  please 
him  a  bit  better." 

"  Well  it  might!  "  I  remarked.  "  It  was  from  Miss 
Driver  and  it  said  what  he  wanted." 

"  Wait  a  bit,  Austin.  He  sat  with  this  note — Miss 
Driver's — in  his  hand,  turning  it  over  and  over.  He 
didn't  offer  to  show  it  to  either  of  us,  but  he  kept 
looking  across  at  Aunt  Sarah.  I  took  up  a  paper,  but 
I  watched  them  from  behind  it.  He  was  weighing 
something  in  his  mind;  she  wouldn't  look  at  him — 
playing  sulky  still  over  the  business  of  the  first  note, 
the  one  that  boy  in  the  red  cap  had  brought.  At  last 


THE    BOY    WITH    THE    RED    CAP     205 

he  got  up  and  went  over  to  her.  He  spoke  rather 
low,  but  I  heard — well,  he  could  have  sent  me  away, 
or  gone  away  with  her  himself,  if  he  hadn't  wanted 
me  to  hear.  '  A  note  I've  had  from  Miss  Driver  makes 
it  very  proper  for  me  to  call  on  her  this  evening,'  he 
said.  Aunt  Sarah  looked  up,  wide  awake  in  a  minute. 
'  You'll  go  this  evening — to  Breysgate?  '  she  asked. 
'  Yes,  at  seven.'  '  At  seven,'  she  repeated  after  him 
with  a  nod.  '  But  perhaps  she'll  be  out.'  '  That's  pos- 
sible,' he  answered.  '  But  I  shall  wait  for  her — she 
must  come  in  before  dinner.'  Aunt  Sarah  looked 
hard  at  him.  '  They'll  probably  know  where  she's 
gone  if  she  is  out.  You  could  go  and  meet  her,'  she 
said  to  him.  I  can't  give  you  the  way  they  talked — 
it  was  all  as  if  what  they  said  meant  something  dif- 
ferent, or  something  more,  at  any  rate.  When  Aunt 
Sarah  suggested  that  he  might  go  and  meet  Miss 
Driver,  he  started  a  little,  then  thought  it  over.  At 
last  he  said,  '  I  shall  try  to  find  her  to-night.'  '  You're 
sensible  at  last!'  she  said — and  added  something  in 
a  whisper.  My  father  nodded,  and  walked  out  of  the 
room,  pocketing  his  letter.  Aunt  Sarah  went  to  the 
fire  and  burned  hers.  I  wish  I  could  have  got  a  look 
at  it!" 

"  So  do  I,"  I  said.  "  It's  just  on  seven  now." 
I  was  thinking  hard.  The  boy  with  the  red  cap — 
Powers's  boy — the  note — the  subterranean  quarrel 
over  it — the  strange  half-spoken  half-suppressed  con- 
versation that  followed — these  gave  plenty  of  matter 
for  thought  when  I  added  to  them  my  sore  doubts 
of  the  way  in  which  Jenny  in  truth  meant  to  spend 
the  evening. 


2o6  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Of  course  it  may  be  all  nothing.  I'm  afraid  all 
the  time  of  being  infernally  officious." 

"  Your  father  will  pretty  nearly  be  at  Breysgate 
by  now." 

"  And  she's  there,  I  suppose,  isn't  she?  "  His  ques- 
tion was  full  of  hesitation. 

In  an  instant,  on  his  question,  my  doubts  and 
suspicions  seemed  to  harden  into  certainties.  I  knew 
— it  was  nothing  less  than  knowledge — that  she  was 
not  there,  and  that  the  note  brought  by  the  boy  with 
the  red  cap  told  truly  where  she  was.  Fillingford 
would  go  to  Breysgate — he  would  be  referred  to 
Chat.  Chat  would  tell  him  that  Jenny  was  in  bed. 
Would  he  believe  it  and  go  home  peacefully — to  face 
Lady  Sarah's  angry  scorn  and  the  doubts  of  his  own 
perplexed  mind?  He  might — then  all  would  be  well. 
But  he  might  not  believe  it.  He  had  said  that  he 
would  try  to  find  her  to-night.  He  knew  where  to 
find  her — if  he  trusted  the  information  which  the 
boy  in  the  red  cap  had  brought. 

"  He  doesn't  know  you've  come  here,  of  course?  " 

"  Not  he!  I  got  a  start — and,  by  Jove,  I  ran!  Are 
you  going  to  do  anything  about  it?" 

I  was  quite  clear  what  I  had  to  do  about  it.  Chat 
must  be  in  the  secret;  she  might  manage  to  send 
Fillingford  home — or  she  might  keep  him  at  Breys- 
gate long  enough  to  give  me,  in  my  turn,  a  chance. 
No  good  lay  in  my  going  to  meet  him — Chat  could 
lie  as  well  as  I,  and,  if  he  would  not  believe  her,  he 
would  not  believe  me  either.  Neither  would  I  send 
Lacey  to  him;  any  appearance  of  Lacey's  in  the  mat- 
ter would  show  that  we  were  afraid,  that  we  knew 


THE  BOY  WITH  THE  RED  CAP  207 

there  was  something  to  conceal.  My  course  was  to 
take  the  start  Lacey's  warning  gave  me,  to  go  where 
Jenny  was,  trusting  to  reach  her  in  time  to  get  her 
away  before  Fillingford  came  on  from  Breysgate.  It 
was  time  to  put  away  pretenses,  scruples,  formalities. 
I  must  find  her  wherever  she  was;  I  must  meet  her 
face  to  face  with  my  message  of  danger. 

I  put  on  my  hat  and  coat  hastily.  Lacey  stood 
looking  at  me. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  he  asked. 

"  Where  that  boy  came  from,"  I  answered. 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  come,  too?  As  far  as  the  house, 
say?  " 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  come?  " 

He  spoke  with  a  certain  calm  authority.  "  I  think 
I've  a  right  to  come.  You  must  excuse  me  for  saying 
that  I  think  I  know  with  whom  we're  dealing.  We 
may  very  likely  be  in  for  a  row,  Austin.  I  don't  want 
to  be  seen,  if  I  can  help  it,  but  I  do  want  to  be  some- 
where handy  in  case  my  father — well,  in  case  there 
is  a  row,  you  know." 

Yes,  we  knew  with  whom  we  might  have  to  deal. 
A  row  was  not  unlikely. 

"  Very  well,  come  along,"  I  said. 

The  clock  struck  seven  as  we  started  out  into  a 
dull,  foggy,  chill  evening.  Darkness  had  fallen  and 
the  lights  of  Catsford  twinkled  in  the  valley  beneath 
us.  As  we  began  to  walk,  I  heard  carriage  wheels 
on  the  road  behind  us.  Fillingford  was  on  his  way 
to  Breysgate.  Lie  well,  Chat!  Be  clever!  Keep  him 
there — keep  him  there,  till  the  danger  is  overpast! 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE    EIGHT-FIFTEEN    TRAIN 

IF  Jenny  were  bound  to  see  Leonard  Octon  that 
evening,  why  had  she  not  sent  for  him  to  her 
own  house?  In  order  that  the  servants  might 
not  know,  and  spread  the  gossip  among  their  friends 
in  other  households?  For  fear  that  some  of  the  neigh- 
bors, to  whom  she  had  sacrificed  him,  might  pass  by 
and  see  him  going  in  or  coming  out,  or  even  might 
call  and  encounter  him  there?  A  visit  from  the  As- 
penicks,  from  Lacey,  from  Alison,  was  not  impos- 
sible. Who  could  say  that  Fillingford  himself  would 
not  do  as,  in  fact,  he  had  done,  and  go  to  Breysgate 
on  receipt  of  her  letter?  There  were  plausible  reasons 
to  be  given  for  her  action,  but  they  were  not,  coolly 
regarded,  of  sufficient  strength  to  outweigh  the  great 
fact  that,  whereas  a  meeting  at  Breysgate  might 
have  been  reckoned  a  bit  of  defiance  and  unfriendli- 
ness to  Fillingford  and  his  allies,  a  meeting  at  Ivy- 
dene  or,  above  all,  at  Hatcham  Ford  was  open  to  a 
far  more  damaging  interpretation;  it  was  a  terrible 
risk,  an  indiscretion  fatal  if  discovered. 

For  the  motives  which  determined  her  action,  it 
is  necessary,  I  believe,  to  look  deeper,  less  to  her 
reasoning,  more  to  her  character,  and  to  the  feeling 
under  whose  sway  she  was.  Her  obstinate  courage 

208 


THE    EIGHT-FIFTEEN    TRAIN         209 

refused  to  show  the  white  feather  to  her  distrust  of 
Powers;  that  very  distrust  itself  appealed  to  her  love 
of  a  risk.  She  would  do  the  thing  because  it  was  dan- 
gerous— because,  if  it  came  off  well,  the  peril  of  it 
would  have  made  it  so  much  sweeter  to  her  taste, 
would  have  given  the  flavor  of  mystery  she  loved, 
and  been  such  a  defiance  of  fate  as  was  an  attraction 
to  her  spirit.  "  Once  more!  "  always  appealed  to 
Jenny;  to  try  once  more — once  again  beyond  the 
point  of  safety.  "  Once  more!  "  has  appealed  to — and 
has  ruined — many  lovers.  Is  not  the  scene,  too,  some- 
thing? To  lovers  a  meeting  in  the  old  place  is  doubly 
a  meeting,  and  becomes  a  memory  of  double  strength. 
The  shrine  has  its  sacredness  as  well  as  the  deity; 
the  spirit  of  the  encounter  is  half  lost  in  alien  sur- 
roundings. "  Once  more — in  the  old  place!"  So  she 
felt  on  the  evening  when  she  was  to  meet  for  the 
last  time  the  man  whom  she  dared  not  keep  with 
her,  but  whose  going  wrung  her  heart.  Farewell  it 
was — it  should  be  full  farewell! 

Lacey  and  I  ran  till  we  nearly  reached  the  gates 
of  the  park;  then  we  walked  quickly,  pausing  now 
and  again  to  listen  for  carriage  wheels  behind  us.  We 
heard  none.  Fillingford  was  lingering  at  Breysgate 
— Chat  must  be  playing  her  game  well!  Jenny  was 
in  bed  and  perhaps  would  get  up — or  Jenny  was  out 
and  would  soon  be  back;  by  some  story  or  other 
Chat  was  fighting  to  keep  him  where  he  was.  The 
thought  gave  hope,  and  I  pushed  on.  Lacey  kept 
pace  with  me;  he  never  spoke  till  we  came  opposite 
to  Ivydene,  and  saw  the  shrubberies  of  Hatcham 
Ford  on  our  right. 


2io  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  That's  as  far  as  I  go,"  said  Lacey,  "  for  the  pres- 
ent. It's  no  business  of  mine  unless  my  father  comes 
— and  wants  me." 

I  left  him  standing  in  the  road,  just  opposite  the 
gate  of  Hatcham  Ford,  which  was  open.  I  went  on 
to  Ivydene  and  knocked.  I  waited,  but  nobody  came. 
I  knocked  again  impatiently.  There  was  a  clat- 
ter of  hob-nailed  shoes  along  the  stone  passage 
inside.  The  door  was  opened  by  the  boy  in  the  red 
cap. 

"  Ah,  Alban,  how  are  you?  Is  your  father  in?  " 
"  No,  sir — mother's  out,  too,  sir.  I'm  taking  care 
of  the  house."  The  boy  looked  pleased  and  proud — 
almost  as  if  he  knew,  though  of  course  he  did  not, 
the  importance  he  had  possessed  in  our  eyes  that 
day. 

"  Do  you  know  where  your  father  is?  " 
"  I  think  he's  at  Hatcham  Ford,  sir.  Mr.  Octon 
came  across  a  little  while  ago  and  asked  for  father, 
and  when  father  came  to  the  door  he  told  him  to  get 
his  hat  and  come  back  to  the  Ford  with  him.  I  ex- 
pect he's  there  still." 

"  Thank  you,  Alban.  I'll  go  and  have  a  look." 
I  expected  to  find  Powers  on  guard,  acting  scout, 
before  the  door  or  in  the  shrubbery,  and  quickly 
crossed  the  road  to  the  Ford.  As  I  went,  I  looked 
about  for  Lacey,  but  could  see  him  nowhere.  Either 
he  had  gone  back  along  the  road  toward  Breysgate, 
to  watch  for  Fillingford's  possible  approach,  or  else 
he  had  thought  he  might  attract  attention  if  he  loi- 
tered in  the  road,  and  had  taken  refuge  from  obser- 
vation in  the  shrubberies.  I  passed  quickly  along  the 


THE    EIGHT-FIFTEEN    TRAIN         211 

gravel  walk,  went  up  to  the  hall  door,  and  rang  the 
bell. 

A  moment  or  two  passed.  Then  Octon  himself 
opened  the  door.  The  light  of  the  gas  jet  over  the 
doorway  was  full  on  his  face;  he  was  very  pale,  and 
drops  of  perspiration  stood  on  his  brow.  But  when  he 
saw  me  his  face  lit  up  with  a  sudden  relief.  ,:  You! 
Thank  God!"  he  said.  "The  very  man  we  wanted! 
Come  inside." 

"Is  she  here?" 

"  Yes." 

"  She  mustn't  stay  a  minute.  There's  danger." 

"  I  know  there  is,"  he  said  grimly.  "  We  found 
that  out  from  Powers.  I've  killed  him,  Austin,  or  all 
but.   Come  into  the  dining-room." 

I  followed  him  into  the  room  where  I  had  once 
waited  while  he  and  Jenny  talked.  As  we  passed 
through  the  hall,  I  noticed  a  portmanteau  and  a  bag 
standing  ready  packed. 

In  the  dining-room  Jenny  was  crouching  on  the 
floor  beside  Powers;  she  was  giving  him  something 
to  drink  out  of  a  wineglass.  The  man  lay  there  inert. 
I  went  up  and  looked  at  him,  bending  down  close. 
There  were  marks  of  fingers  on  his  neck;  he  had  been 
half  strangled. 

Jenny  had  taken  no  notice  when  I  came  in.  Now 
she  looked  up.  "  It's  all  right,  he's  coming  to,"  she 
said.  "  I  thought  he  was  gone,  though.  We  made  him 
confess  what  he'd  done,  you  know.  Then  he  grew 
insolent,  and  Leonard — "  She  turned  to  Octon  with 
a  smile.  She  seemed  to  say,  "  Well,  you  can  guess 
what  Leonard  would  do  under  those  circumstances!  " 


2i2  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  You  must  come  away  from  here,"  I  said  in  a  low 
urgent  voice.  "  Fillingford  may  be  here  at  any  mo- 
ment. He  went  to  Breysgate  first — but  he'll  come  on 
here.  He  knows — and  he  means  to  find  you." 

"  If  he  knows,  what  does  it  matter  whether  he 
finds  me  or  not?  And  what  are  we  to  do  with 
Powers?  " 

"  Leave  him  to  me.  I'll  get  him  back  to  his  own 
house."  I  had  it  in  my  mind  that  I  could  call  Lacey 
to  help  me  to  carry  him. 

While  I  spoke,  she  was  giving  the  man  another 
drink.  He  gurgled  in  his  throat  and  moved  uneasily. 
She  looked  up  again:  "He's  doing  all  right,  but — 
hadn't  Leonard  better  go?  " 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Octon.  "  I'm  here  to  see  it 
through." 

"  No,  no,"  I  said  hastily.  "  She's  right,  you  go. 
This  may  be  a  police  matter,  if  he  takes  it  that  way — 
or  if  Fillingford  comes  and  finds  him.  If  you're  here, 
you  may  be  arrested.  Then  everything's  got  to  come 
out!  For  her  sake  you  ought  to  go." 

"  You  must  go,  Leonard,"  said  Jenny.  She  propped 
Powers's  head  on  a  footstool  and  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  It  would  be  the  best  thing,"  said  Octon.  "  It's 
only  to-night  instead  of  to-morrow  morning." 

His  decision  was  taken.  He  lingered  only  one 
minute.  He  held  out  both  his  hands  to  her,  and  she 
put  hers  in  them.  I  looked  away;  by  chance  my  eyes 
fell  on  the  mantelpiece.  It  struck  me  differently  some- 
how; in  an  instant  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  picture 
of  the  beautiful  young  girl  was  not  there. 

"  There's  a  fast  train  to  London  at  8.15.  You  can 


THE    EIGHT-FIFTEEN    TRAIN         213 

catch  that,"  I  said.  "  And  you'd  better  go  abroad  to- 
morrow. I  can  let  you  know  what  happens." 

"  Wire  as  soon  as  you  can — Grand  Hotel  to-night 
— to-morrow,  the  Continental,  Paris.  Write  to-mor- 
row, and  send  my  portmanteau;  I'll  take  my  bag. 
I  shall  come  back  if  there's  any  trouble." 

"  No,  no,  you  mustn't,"  said  Jenny. 

"  Well,  we'll  see  about  that  presently.  Good-by." 

I  watched  him  go  into  the  hall  and  take  up  his  bag; 
then  I  came  back  to  Jenny. 

"  Now  come  away,"  I  said,  quickly.  "  You  don't 
want  to  meet  Fillingford,  and  he  may  be  here  any 
minute.  I'll  see  you  safe  on  the  road,  then  I'll  come 
back  to  this  fellow.  We  can  hush  it  all  up — it's  only 
a  matter  of  enough  money." 

I  heard  the  wheels  of  a  carriage  in  the  road.  Jenny 
held  up  her  hand  for  silence.  We  listened  a  mo- 
ment. The  carriage  stopped  at  the  gate  of  Hatcham 
Ford.  It  was  Fillingford — Would  he  meet  Octon?  I 
feared  that  Octon  would  take  no  pains  to  avoid 
him. 

In  that  I  was  wrong.  The  situation  had  sobered 
him.  He  had  seen  where  lay  the  best  chance  for 
Jenny,  and  he  would  not  throw  it  away.  When  the 
carriage  drove  up,  he  was  just  by  the  gate  of  Ivy- 
dene — Lacey,  hidden  in  the  shrubberies,  saw  him 
there.  He  drew  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  gate 
and  watched  Fillingford  get  out.  Fillingford,  intent 
on  Hatcham  Ford,  never  glanced  in  his  direction. 
When  Fillingford  had  gone  in,  he  resumed  his  way 
to  the  station. 

When  I  heard  the  carriage  stop,  I  cried  to  Jenny, 


214  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  He  mustn't  find  you!  Run  upstairs  somewhere — I'll 
manage  to  send  him  away." 

"What's  the  good?"  she  asked.  "We've  got  to 
have  it  out;  we  may  as  well  have  it  out  now."  She 
looked  at  me  haughtily.  "  I'm  not  inclined  to  hide 
from  Lord  Fillingford." 

Powers's  hand  went  up  to  his  throat;  he  coughed 
and  gurgled  again.  She  looked  down  at  him  with  a 
smile.  'What's  the  good  of  hiding  me?  You  can't 
hide  that!  " 

"  I  won't  let  him  in  at  all!  "  I  cried. 

"  What's  the  good?  He'll  know  I'm  here  if  you  do 
that.  It's  best  to  let  him  in.  I'm  not  afraid  to  meet 
him,  and  I'd  rather — know  to-night." 

His  knock  came  on  the  door.  I  went  and  opened 
it.  He  started  at  the  sight  of  me. 

"  You,  Mr.  Austin?  I  was  looking  for  Mr. 
Octon." 

■  He's  not  here,"  I  answered.  "  He  has  just  left 
for  London." 

He  seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  moment.  "  Then  are 
you  alone  here?  "  he  asked. 

Before  I  had  time  to  think  of  my  answer,  Jenny's 
voice  came  from  the  dining-room.  "  I  am  here.  Bring 
Lord  Fillingford  into  this  room,  Austin." 

He  did  not  start  now,  but  he  bit  his  lip.  I  stood 
aside  to  let  him  pass,  and  shut  the  door  after  him. 
Then  I  followed  him  into  the  dining-room.  Jenny 
was  standing  near  the  fire  beside  Powers,  who  kept 
shifting  his  head  about  on  the  footstool  with  stiff 
awkward  movements.  Fillingford  came  to  the  middle 
of  the  room  and  bowed  slightly  to  Jenny;  then  his 


THE    EIGHT-FIFTEEN    TRAIN         215 

eyes  fell  on  Powers  and,  in  sudden  surprise,  he  pointed 
his  finger  at  him. 

"  My  servant — and  your  spy,"  she  said.  "  He  has 
had  a  narrow  escape  of  his  life." 

'  So  it's  true,"  he  said — not  in  question,  but  to 
himself,  in  a  very  low  voice.  "  True  to-night — and 
true  often  before!  " 

She  made  no  attempt  at  denial.  ':  Yes,  I  have  often 
been  here.  I'll  answer  any  question  you  like  to  put — 
and  answer  it  truthfully. 

"  What  I  know  is  enough.  I  impute  no  more  than 
I  know." 

"  I  thank  you  for  that  at  least.  It's  only  justice, 
but  justice  must  be  hard  to  give — from  you  to  me." 

"  But  what  I  know  is — enough." 

"  You've  a  perfect  right  to  say  so." 

Both  were  speaking  calmly  and  quietly.  There  was 
no  trace  of  passion  in  their  voices.  Neither  took  any 
heed  of  me,  but  I  stayed — since  she  had  not  bidden 
me  go. 

He  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket.  I  recognized  the 
large  square  envelope  as  of  the  shape  which  Jenny 
used. 

"  The  letter  you  were  so  good  as  to  send  me  this 
afternoon,"  he  said,  holding  it  up  in  his  hand. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  read  it  with  very  great  pleasure."  He  tore  it 
into  four  pieces  and  flung  them  on  the  table  before 
him.  They  lay  there  between  him  and  Jenny.  He 
looked  at  her  with  a  smile.  "  You're  not  like  Eleanor 
Lacey  for  nothing,"  he  said. 

She  smiled,  too,  and  raised  a  hand  to  restrain  me, 


216  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

for  at  his  bitter  taunt  I  had  made  a  step  forward, 
meaning  to  interpose. 

"Probably  not!"  she  answered.  Then  she  turned 
to  me.  "  You'll  look  after  Powers  for  me,  won't  you, 
Austin?  It's  only  a  matter  of  money  with  him,  as  we 
all  know — and  Mr.  Cartmell  has  plenty." 

"  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  prevent  your  being  troubled 
at  all." 

"  I  shan't  be  troubled — but  I  shall  be  grateful  to 
you.  Lord  Fillingford,  in  return  for  your  compliment, 
may  I  beg  a  favor  of  you?  "  She  had  given  a  quick 
glance  at  the  clock. 

"  Anything  that  it's  in  my  power  to  grant,"  he 
answered  with  a  little  bow. 

"  It's  nothing  great — only  the  loan  of  your  car- 
riage. I  came  here  on  foot — and  I'm  tired." 

"  It's  quite  at  your  disposal." 

"It's  not  inconvenient?  You're  not  hurried?" 

"  I  can  walk,  Miss  Driver." 

"  Please  don't  do  that.  I'll  send  it  back  for  you  as 
quickly  as  possible." 

"  As  you  please,"  he  said  courteously. 

"  Good-night,  Austin,"  she  said  to  me,  holding  out 
her  hand.  "  Don't  come  with  me.  I'd  rather  find  my 
own  way  to  the  carriage,  if  you  and  Lord  Fillingford 
will  let  me." 

I  took  her  hand.  She  gave  mine  a  quick  light 
squeeze.  "  God  bless  you,  Austin,"  she  said.  Then, 
with  a  last  slight  salutation  to  Fillingford,  she  walked 
out  of  the  room — and  we  heard  the  hall  door  shut 
behind  her.  Fillingford  stood  where  he  was  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  slowly  sat  down.  I  went  to  the  table  and 


THE    EIGHT-FIFTEEN    TRAIN         217 

collected  the  fragments  of  Jenny's  letter.  I  made  a 
gesture  toward  the  fire.  He  nodded.  I  flung  the  pieces 
into  the  flames. 

Powers  slowly  raised  his  head,  leaning  on  his  el- 
bow. "  Where  am  I?  "  he  muttered. 

"  Not  where  you  ought  to  be,"  I  said.  He  laid  his 
head  dowm  again,  grumbling  inarticulately. 

"  We  want  no  publicity  about  this,  Mr.  Austin," 
said  Fillingford — he  spoke  quite  in  his  usual  reserved 
and  measured  way.  "  I  shall  be  willing  to  second 
your  efforts  in  that  direction.  This  man  had  better 
be  got  out  of  the  town  quietly — that  can  probably 
be  managed  by  using  the  appropriate  means.  For 
the  rest,  no  public  announcement  having  been  made, 
nothing  need  be  said.  It  will  probably  be  desir- 
able for  me  to  go  away  for  a  few  weeks — that  is, 
if  Miss  Driver  prefers  to  remain  at  Breysgate.  Or, 
if  she  takes  a  short  holiday,  I  can  remain — just  as 
she  wishes." 

"  I  think  it  can  all  be  managed,  Lord  Fillingford. 
We  must  try  to  have  as  little  gossip  as  possible — 
for  everybody's  sake." 

"  You  don't  want  my  help  to-night?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  I  can  get  him  home.  He'll  soon  be  well 
enough,  I  hope,  to  understand  that  it's  his  interest 
to  hold  his  tongue,  and  I  can  settle  the  rest  with  him 
to-morrow.  If  he  is  inclined  to  make  trouble " 

"  I  think  that  we  can  persuade  him  between  us. 
If  you  need  my  help,  let  me  know." 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  that."  I  paused  for 
a  moment.  "  You,  I  suppose,  have  no  business  with 
him  just  now?  " 


218  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

He  looked  at  me  gravely.  "  I  am  informed  that 
he  has  already  been  paid  for  his  services,"  he  said. 
"  Such  services,  Mr.  Austin,  are,  as  your  tone  im- 
plied, not  very  pleasant  to  receive.  But  the  greater 
fault  seems  to  lie  with  those  whose  methods  make 
them  necessary."  He  rose  to  his  feet,  saying,  "  It'll 
be  some  time  before  the  carriage  gets  back.  I 
think  I'll  start  on  my  way  and  meet  it.  You're  sure 
I  can  be  of  no  use?  No?  Then  good-night,  Mr. 
Austin." 

"  Good-night,  Lord  Fillingford." 

"You  will  communicate  with  me,  if  necessary?" 

"  Yes.  I  don't  see  why  it  should  be." 

With  these  words  we  had  reached  the  door,  and  I 
opened  it.  At  the  moment  I  saw  the  lamps  of  his 
carriage  at  the  gate. 

"  Look,  the  carriage  is  back  already;  it  can't  have 
taken  her  half  the  way!  " 

He  made  no  reply,  and  we  walked  quickly  down 
the  path  together. 

"  You  took  Miss  Driver  home,  Thompson?  "  Fill- 
ingford asked  the  coachman. 

"  No,  my  lord,  not  to  Breysgate.  Miss  Driver 
wished  to  go  to  the  station.  I  drove  there  and  set 
her  down.  She  told  me  to  come  back  here  imme- 
diately, my  lord." 

"  To  the  station? "  we  both  exclaimed,  startled 
into  an  involuntary  show  of  surprise. 

The  man  hesitated  a  little.  "  I — I  beg  pardon,  my 
lord,  but  I  think  Miss  Driver  meant  to  go  by  train. 
She  asked  me  to  drive  quickly — and  she'd  just  have 
managed  the  eight-fifteen." 


THE    EIGHT-FIFTEEN    TRAIN         219 

I  looked  at  my  watch,  it  was  just  on  half-past 
eight. 

"  Perhaps  she  only  wanted  to  see — somebody — 
off,"  said  Fillingford,  soon  recovered  from  his  mo- 
mentary lapse  into  a  betrayal  of  surprise.  He  turned 
to  me.  "  That'll  be  it,  Mr.  Austin." 

I  looked  at  his  face — there  was  no  telling  anything 
from  it.  It  had  given  no  sign  of  change  as  he  made 
his  reference  to  Octon.  I  think  that  he  must  have 
seen  something  in  mine,  for  he  added  in  a  low  voice, 
"  Very  likely  that's  all."  He  seemed  to  urge  this  view 
upon  me. 

Well,  it  was  not  an  unlikely  view.  She  had  risked 
much  for  a  last  talk  with  Octon.  She  might  well  be 
tempted  to  seek  another,  a  final,  farewell.  But  I  was 
very  uneasy. 

Without  more  words,  merely  with  a  polite  lift  of 
his  hat,  Fillingford  got  into  his  carriage  and  was 
driven  off  toward  the  Manor.  I  turned  and  walked 
slowly  back  to  the  house.  Lacey  came  out  from  the 
shrubbery  on  the  left  of  the  path.  "  Well?  "  he  said. 

"  I  want  your  help  inside,"  I  said. 

He  asked  no  questions.  We  went  in  together  and 
set  to  work  with  Powers.  With  the  help  of  brandy 
and  a  shaking  wre  got  him  on  his  feet.  Soon  he  was 
well  enough  to  be  led  home.  His  wife  was  in  by  now 
and  opened  the  door  for  us.  I  told  her  that  he  had 
had  a  kind  of  seizure,  but  was  much  better — there 
was  no  need  of  a  doctor.  I  sent  her  to  get  his  bed 
ready.  Then  I  had  a  word  with  him. 

"  Can  you  understand  business?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes — I  feel  queer,  though." 


220  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Hold  your  tongue  and  you  shall  be  well  paid. 
Talk,  and  you  won't  get  a  farthing.  Do  you  under- 
stand that?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Austin." 

"  Very  well,  act  on  it  for  to-night — and  I'll  come 
and  see  you  to-morrow." 

I  left  his  wife  getting  him  to  bed.  I  do  not  think 
that  the  story  of  the  seizure  imposed  on  her,  but  she 
pretended  to  accept  it.  Probably  she  was  accustomed 
to  his  having  accidents — the  risks  of  the  trade  he 
practiced  were  considerable.  Meanwhile  Lacey  had 
been  over  to  the  Ford  again,  and  left  a  written  mes- 
sage on  the  table,  saying  that  Octon  had  been  called 
to  town  and  would  not  be  back  that  night.  All  else 
could  wait  till  to-morrow.  Now  I  wanted  to  get  back 
to  Breysgate.  Lacey,  too,  was  for  home,  which  he 
could  reach  quicker  by  the  public  road  than  by  com- 
ing round  through  our  park.  He  had  put  to  me  no 
question  at  all  up  to  now.  Just  as  we  were  parting 
he  did  ask  two. 

"  We  didn't  bring  it  off,  I  gather?  " 

I  shook  my  head.  Most  certainly  we  had  not 
brought  it  off. 

"  How  did  the — the  governor  behave?  " 

One  speech  of  "  the  governor's  "  had  been  perhaps 
a  little  bitter.  That  was  his  right;  and  the  bitterness 
was  in  the  high  manner — as  Jenny  herself  had  felt. 

"  He  behaved — perfectly."  That  description  was — 
from  our  side — only  his  due. 

Lacey  looked  at  me,  smiled  woefully,  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  "  Yes — and  so  he's  lost  her!  "  he  said. 
He  turned  on  his  heel,  and  swung  off  into  the  dark- 


THE    EIGHT-FIFTEEN    TRAIN         221 

ness.  I  was  left  with  a  notion  that  we  possessed  a 
man  more  than  we  had  counted  in  our  neighborhood. 

I  made  for  the  Priory — ventre-a-terre.  Something 
had  come  home  to  Jenny  when  Fillingford  tore  up 
her  letter  and  told  her  that  she  was  not  like  Eleanor 
Lacey  for  nothing.  Till  then  she  had  been  negotiat- 
ing— negotiating  still,  though  ever  so  defiantly — still 
trying  to  find  out  what  he  thought,  trying  to  see 
what  view  he  took,  even  though  she  ostentatiously 
abstained  from  self-defense.  At  that  action  and  at  that 
speech  she  had  frozen.  "  Probably  not!  "  That  was 
her  acceptance  of  his  action  and  his  words.  She  had 
taken  them  for  her  answer — the  tearing  of  the  letter 
and  his  one  bitter  speech. 

The  big  house  lay  hospitably  open  to  the  night — 
lights  in  the  windows,  lamps  burning  in  the  hall  and 
illuminating  the  approach.  Well,  it  was  early  evening 
yet — only  nine  o'clock.  All  might  be  safe  and  well 
within  doors,  and  yet  the  doors  be  open.  I  ran  up  the 
steps  in  a  passion  of  excitement. 

As  I  reached  the  door,  I  was  met — not  by  Loft 
nor  by  any  of  the  men — but  by  the  trembling  figure 
of  a  woman.  Chat  had  heard  feet  on  the  steps — she 
had  been  in  waiting!  My  heart  sank  as  lead.  Whom 
had  she  been  waiting  for?  Not  for  me! 

"  I  did  my  best,  I  did  my  best,"  she  whispered, 
catching  me  by  the  lapel  of  my  greatcoat.  "  I  kept 
him  as  long  as  I  could.  What  happened?  ': 

"  The  worst  of  luck.  Is  she  here?  " 

"  Here?  "  She  seemed  amazed.  "  No!  Did  you  see 
her?  Where  have  you  left  her?  " 

"  Then  she's  gone,"  I  said. 


222  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Chat  stood  where  she  was  for  a  second,  then 
dropped  into  the  hall-porter's  chair  which  was  just 
behind  her.  She  began  to  sob  violently,  rocking  her- 
self to  and  fro.  "  I  tried,  I  tried,  I  tried!  "  she  kept 
saying  through  her  sobs. 

I  became  suddenly  aware  that  Loft  had  come  into 
the  hall.  He  appeared  not  to  notice  Chat.  He  stood 
there,  grave  and  attentive,  awaiting  my  orders. 

"  Miss  Driver  has  been  suddenly  called  away.  I 
don't  think  she'll  be  home  to  night.  If  she  should 
come,  the  night-watchman  will  let  her  in,  and  Miss 
Chatters  will  be  up.  The  rest  of  you  needn't  wait  after 
your  usual  time." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Loft.  Gravely,  with  his 
measured  step,  he  walked  away  and  left  us  alone  to- 
gether. 

Chat  stopped  sobbing  for  a  moment — to  ask  me 
a  supremely  unimportant  question. 

"  Was  she  very  angry  with  me,  Mr.  Austin?  " 

"  She  didn't  say  one  word  about  you." 

"Oh,  I'm  glad  of  that,  I'm  glad  of  that!"  Her 
sobbing  again  broke  the  silence  of  the  great  empty 
house. 


CHAPTER    XV 


IN    THE    DOCK 


SHE  had  gone — and  we,  her  friends,  were  left  to 
make  the  best  of  the  situation. 
It  proved,  indeed,  easy  enough  to  deal  with 
Powers;  the  police  court  was  not  to  be  added  to  our 
troubles!  The  man  was  thoroughly  frightened  and 
shaken;  confronted  with  the  suggestion  that  Octon 
might  well  return  in  a  few  days,  he  was  eager  to 
hide  himself.  Cartmell  took  advantage  of  his  mood 
and  pared  down  his  money  cruelly;  he  took  what  he 
could  get — no  doubt  he  had  been  well  paid  from 
Fillingford  Manor — and  within  two  days  was  out  of 
Catsford  with  all  his  belongings.  There,  one  might 
well  hope,  was  an  end  of  Powers;  even  Jenny  would 
not  call  him  back  again! 

But  an  end  of  Powers  did  not  much  mend  matters; 
even  the  fact  that  Jenny's  engagement  to  Fillingford 
had  not  been  formally  announced  failed  to  assist  them 
to  any  great  extent.  The  engagement  had  been  a 
subject  of  general  speculation,  confidently  foretold 
and  almost  daily  expected.  Now  the  subject  of  com- 
mon talk  was  very  different.  Jenny  was  gone,  Octon 
was  gone.  So  far,  perhaps,  little.  One  might  return, 
the  other  had,  no  doubt,  good  reasons  for  departure. 

323 


224  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

But  there  were  witnesses  of  their  departure  together, 
and  of  circumstances  which  made  it  look  strange. 
Alison  the  Rector  was  one  of  these — a  friendly  un- 
impeachable witness.  He  had  been  seeing  two  lads  off 
to  London — former  members  of  his  choir  who  had 
returned  to  pay  a  visit  to  old  friends — and  he  told 
Cartmell  (he  did  not  speak  to  me,  nor,  I  believe,  to 
anybody  but  Cartmell)  how  he  had  seen  Jenny  come 
hurriedly  on  to  the  platform;  she  was  veiled,  but  her 
face  was  easily  to  be  distinguished,  and  her  bearing 
alone  would  have  caused  her  to  be  recognized.  She 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  about  her,  then  caught 
sight  of  Octon's  tall  figure  by  the  bookstall.  She 
went  straight  up  to  him.  He  turned  with  a  start. 
"  The  man's  face  when  he  saw  her  was  a  wonder,"  said 
Alison.  They  talked  a  little,  then  walked  to  the  train. 
Octon  spoke  to  the  guard  and  gave  him  money.  The 
guard  put  them  into  a  compartment  and  turned  the 
key.  No  sign  of  companion,  maid,  footman,  or  even 
luggage,  appertaining  to  Jenny!  Did  Miss  Driver  of 
Breysgate  Priory  travel  by  night  to  London  in  that 
fashion? 

What  he  had  seen  others  saw — both  Jenny  and 
Octon  were  well  known  in  Catsford — and  others  were 
less  reticent  than  the  Rector.  When  no  announce- 
ment was  made  of  Jenny's  return  and  none  of  her 
engagement,  when  Powers  vanished  and  Ivydene  was 
shut  up,  then  the  stream  of  talk  began  to  flow.  Fill- 
ingford  was  loyally  silent;  his  silence  seemed  only 
to  add  significance  to  the  rumors.  Lacey  abruptly 
rejoined  his  regiment,  though  he  had  engagements 
for  three  weeks  ahead — yet  another  unexplained  de- 


IN    THE    DOCK  225 

parture!  The  whole  town — the  whole  neighborhood 
— were  agog.  Human  nature  being  what  it  is,  small 
blame  to  them! 

Of  course  his  interview  with  Alison  sent  Cartmell 
flying  up  to  me  in  excitement  and  consternation.  He 
had  become  devoted  to  Jenny;  he  was  devoted  also 
to  that  fabric  of  influence  and  importance  which  she 
had  been  building  for  herself.  He  was  terribly  upset. 
He  had  not  been  so  far  behind  the  scenes  as  I  had, 
or  as  Chat;  the  catastrophe  came  on  him  with  un- 
mitigated suddenness.  He  had  been  a  great  partisan 
of  the  Fillingford  match;  that  crumbled  before  his 
eyes.  But  the  greater  blow  was  the  mystery  of  her 
flight  with  Octon. 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing.  We  must  wait  for  a  let- 
ter." It  was  all  I  could  say  unless  and  until  Jenny 
gave  me  leave  to  speak. 

That  she  did  promptly,  so  far  as  Cartmell  was 
concerned,  thereby  enabling  me  to  use  his  services 
in  regard  to  Powers.  A  letter  arrived  on  Saturday 
morning — the  flight  had  been  on  Thursday.  It  was 
a  brief  letter,  and  a  businesslike  one.  It  showed  two 
things:  that  Jenny  was,  for  the  moment,  in  London 
— she  did  not  say  where — and  that  she  was  not 
coming  back.  It  told  me  to  take  Cartmell  into  my 
full  confidence,  to  tell  him  all  I  knew;  neither  he, 
nor  Chat,  nor  I,  was  to  say  a  word  to  anybody  else. 
"  Announce  that  I  am  going  to  winter  abroad,  and 
say  nothing  else — absolutely  nothing — no  explana- 
tions, no  excuses,  no  guesses.  Say  just  what  I  have 
told  you,  and  nothing  else.  Tell  Chat  that  I  want 
nothing  sent  on.  I  shall  get  what  I  want.  I  will  write 


226  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

at  length  about  business — to  you  or  to  Mr.  Cart- 
mell — as  soon  as  I  have  made  my  plans."  Then  she 
bade  me  go  to  Hatcham  Ford,  to  pay  off  Octon's 
two  servants,  and  have  the  house  put  in  charge  of 
a  caretaker.  That  injunction  was  the  only  reference 
to  Octon;  of  her  own  position,  feelings,  or  inten- 
tions in  respect  to  him  she  made  no  mention  what- 
ever. 

Cartmell  heard  the  letter,  and  the  story  which,  in 
obedience  to  it,  I  told  him,  without  signs  of  very 
great  surprise.  He  twisted  his  mouth  about  and 
grunted  over  Jenny's  folly  and  double-dealing — but 
to  his  practical  mind  the  present  situation  was  the 
question;  my  story  seemed  to  make  that  more,  not 
less,  explicable.  Jenny,  in  honor  pledged  to  Filling- 
ford,  found  that  she  wanted  to  marry  Octon;  she  had 
not  dared  to  tell  Fillingford  so;  hence  all  the  sub- 
terfuges, the  secret  meetings,  the  catastrophe,  and 
the  flight. 

"  In  a  day  or  two  we  shall  get  news  of  their  mar- 
riage, no  doubt.  It's  very  silly,  and  not  very  credit- 
able— but  it's  hardly  a  tragedy,  Austin.  Only — there 
goes  Fillingford  Manor  forever!  And  what  a  master 
for  Breysgate!  " 

His  was  as  plain  and  reasonable  a  view  as  the 
situation  could  be  fitted  into.  Jenny  would  now 
marry  Octon,  wait  till  the  sensation  was  over,  and 
then  come  back  to  Breysgate  with  her  husband.  Or 
perhaps  she  would  not  come  back  to  Breysgate;  per- 
haps she  would  not  face  the  neighborhood  with  her 
record  behind  her — and  Octon  by  her  side,  ever  re- 
calling it.  She  would  break  up  all  the  fabric  which 


IN    THE    DOCK  227 

she  had  made — and  start  anew  somewhere  else.  That 
did  not  seem  unlikely;  a  suggestion  of  it  filled  Cart- 
mell  with  fresh  dismay. 

"A  pretty  thing  that!"  he  said.  "After  all  our 
tall  talk  about  our  love  for  Catsford,  and  our  Insti- 
tute, and  all  the  rest  of  it!  How  am  I  to  face  Bindle- 
combe,  eh?  And  look  at  the  money  she's  put  into  the 
estate!  She'll  never  get  that  back  on  a  sale." 

I  found  Cartmell  rather  comforting — at  least  he 
created  a  diversion  in  my  thoughts.  His  care  for  the 
externals  of  the  position,  for  the  material  and  even 
the  pecuniary  aspects  of  it,  was  a  relief  to  an  imagi- 
nation which,  all  against  its  will,  had  been  engrossed 
in  the  state  and  the  struggle  of  Jenny's  heart — 
dwelling  on  her  intentions  not  about  her  estate  and 
her  Institute,  but  about  herself,  picturing  the  strong 
rush  of  feeling  which  had  impelled  her  to  her  flight, 
asking  whither  it  would  lead  or  had  led  her — and 
asking  doubtfully. 

Cartmell  tapped  my  knee  with  the  end  of  his  stick. 
"  The  sooner  we  get  news  of  the  marriage,  the  better 
— though  bad's  the  best!  "  he  said  with  a  solemn  nod 
of  his  head. 

He  was  right — but  most  heartily  did  I  echo  his 
'Bad's  the  best!'  Had  Jenny  herself  ever  thought 
differently — at  least  before  that  fatal  night?  What 
was  she  thinking  now — when  the  night  was  past? 

Two  days  later  a  long  letter  reached  Cartmell;  he 
came  up  to  me  with  it  directly  after  breakfast,-  when 
I  was  in  my  office  at  the  Priory.  A  lonely,  weary 
great  place  was  the  house  now — no  life  in  it;  Chat 
in  bed  and  probably  in  flutters — she  had  taken  to 


\ 


228  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

both  on  the  night  of  the  disaster,  and  clung-  to  both; 
Loft's  face  and  gait  was  pronouncedly  funereal.  Vis- 
itors, of  course,  there  were  none.  The  establishment 
seemed  to  be  in  quarantine. 

Jenny's  letter  was  in  her  best  style — concise,  clear 
• — and  handsome.  Everything  was  to  go  on  at  Breys- 
gate  as  though  she  herself  were  there.  Cartmell  was 
given  full  control  of  finances — a  power  of  attorney 
was  to  follow  from  London.  Chat  was  to  stay  till 
further  orders.  Nothing  was  to  be  shut  up,  nobody 
to  be  dismissed.  I  was  directed  to  take  full  charge 
of  the  house  and  grounds,  allotted  ample  funds  for 
the  expenses,  and  intrusted  with  the  care  of  all  her 
correspondence.  Urgent  letters  were  to  be  sent  under 
cover  to  her  bankers  at  Paris;  there  all  communica- 
tions were  to  be  addressed,  thence  all  would  come. 
Money  for  her  own  use  was  to  be  deposited  there 
also.  Finally,  the  Committee  was  fully  empowered  to 
proceed  with  the  plans  and  preliminaries  of  the  In- 
stitute; they  were  to  be  credited  with  five  thousand 
pounds  for  this  purpose.  I  was  to  act  on  her  behalf 
and  report  progress  to  her  from  time  to  time.  What- 
ever her  feelings  were,  her  b*rain  was  active,  busy, 
and  efficient. 

"  It  doesn't  look  as  if  she  meant  to  give  up  Breys- 
gate,  anyhow,"  said  Cartmell. 

"  Neither  does  it  look  as  if  she  meant  to  come 
back,"  said  I. 

That,  again,  was  like  Jenny.  She  did  not  mean  to 
come  back,  but  neither  did  she  mean  to  let  go.  She 
elaborately  provided  for  a  long  absence,  but  by  care- 
ful implication  negatived  the  idea  that  the  absence 


IN    THE    DOCK  229 

was  to  be  permanent.  Though  she  was  not  there,  her 
presence  was  to  be  felt.  Though  she  was  away,  she 
would  rule  through  her  deputies — Chat,  Cartmell, 
the  Institute  Committee,  myself.  She  forsook  Cats- 
ford,  but  would  remain  a  power  there. 

With  all  this,  not  a  word  of  what  she  herself  meant 
to  do  or  where  she  meant  to  go — no  explanation  of 
the  past  or  information  about  the  future.  Not  a  word 
of  Octon — not  a  word  of  marriage!  The  old  signa- 
ture held  still,  "  Jenny  Driver."  The  silences  of  the 
letter  were  even  more  remarkable  than  its  contents. 
The  whole  effect  was  one  of  personal  isolation.  That 
great  local  institution,  Miss  Driver  of  Breysgate,  was 
all  to  the  fore.  Jenny  had  withdrawn  behind  an  im- 
penetrable veil.  Miss  Driver  of  Breysgate  was  benign, 
conciliatory,  gracious,  loyal  to  Catsford.  Jenny  was 
enigmatic,  unapologetic,  defiant.  Jenny  slapped  while 
Miss  Driver  stroked.  What  would  they  make  out  of 
these  contradictory  attitudes  of  the  dual  personality? 

Cartmell  put  his  common-sense  finger  on  the  spot 
— on  the  very  pulse  of  Catsford  and  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

"  What  they'll  want  to  hear  about  is  the  marriage. 
Any  irregularity  in  her  position — 1  "  He  waved  his 
hands  expressively. 

Graciousness  and  loyalty,  charities  continued  and 
institutes  built — excellent  in  their  way,  but  no  real  use 
if  there  were  any  irregularity  in  her  position!  Cart- 
mell was  right — and  I  am  far  from  wishing  to  imply 
that  Catsford  was  wrong,  or  that  its  pulse  beat  other- 
wise than  the  pulse  of  a  healthy  locality  should.  The 
rules  must  be  kept — at  any  rate,  homage  must  be 


23o  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

paid  to  them.  Jenny  herself  never  denied  the  obliga- 
tion, whether  it  were  to  be  regarded  as  merely  social 
or  as  something  more.  It  is  no  business  of  mine  to 
question  it  on  her  behalf — and  I  feel  no  call  to  do  it 
on  my  own  account. 

Cartmell's  words  flung  a  doubt.  Was  there  much 
positive  reason  for  that  doubt  yet?  People  may  get 
married  without  advertising  the  fact.  Even  although 
they  have  departed  by  the  same  train  for  the  same 
place,  they  may  behave  with  propriety  pending  ar- 
rangements for  a  wedding.  Jenny  had  great  posses- 
sions; she  was  not  to  be  married  out  of  hand,  like  a 
beggar-girl.  Settlements  clamored  to  be  made,  law- 
yers to  be  consulted.  Cartmell  cut  across  these  sooth- 
ing reflections  of  mine. 

"  It's  a  funny  thing  that  I've  had  no  instructions 
about  settlements.  She'd  surely  never  marry  him 
without  settlements?  " 

I  cut  my  reflections  adrift,  it  was  the  only  line  left 
open  to  me.  "  How  could  you  expect  a  girl  to  think 
about  them  in  such  circumstances?  ' 

"  I  should  expect  Jenny  Driver  to,"  he  said. 

•  ■  She'd  be  thinking  of  nothing  except  the  romance 
of  it." 

"  Is  that  the  impression  you  get  from  her  letter?  ': 

"  There  are  always  two  sides  to  her  mind,"  I  urged. 

"  One's  in  that  letter,"  he  said,  pointing  to  it. 
"  What's  the  other  doing,  Austin?  " 

To  ask  that  question  was,  as  things  stood,  to  cry 
to  an  oracle  which  was  dumb.  Miss  Driver  of  Breys- 
gate  spoke — but  Jenny  was  obstinately  mute.  Before 
many  days  were  out,  Catsford  became  one  colossal 


IN    THE    DOCK  231 

"  Why?  "  It  must  have  been  by  a  supreme  effort,  by 
a  heartrending  sacrifice  to  traditional  decorum,  that 
the  editor  of  the  Herald  and  Times  refrained  from 
writing  articles  or  "  opening  our  columns  to  a  cor- 
respondence "  on  the  subject. 

At  last  there  came  a  word  about  herself — to  me 
and  to  me  only.  It  was  contained  in  the  last  commu- 
nication I  received  from  her  before  she  left  London; 
she  spoke  of  herself  as  being  "  just  off."  The  letter 
dealt  with  nothing  more  important  than  the  treat- 
ment of  a  pet  spaniel  which  had  been  ailing  at  the  time 
of  her  flight.  But  there  was  a  postscript,  squeezed 
in  at  the  foot  of  the  page;  the  ink  was  paler  than  in 
the  letter  itself.  It  looked  as  though  the  postscript 
had  been  added  by  an  afterthought — perhaps  after 
hesitation — and  blotted  immediately.  "  I  still  hold  my 
precarious  liberty." 

The  one  sentence  answered  one  question — she  was 
not  married.  There  were  things  which  it  left  unan- 
swered; her  present  position  and  her  intentions  for 
the  future  lay  still  in  doubt.  She  held  her  liberty,  but 
the  liberty  was  precarious.  Here  was  no  material  for 
a  reassuring  public  announcement;  even  if  I  had  not 
been  sure  that  the  postscript  was  meant  for  me  alone 
— and  of  that  I  was  sure — I  could  only  have  held  my 
tongue;  it  was  charged  with  so  fatal  an  ambiguity, 
it  left  so  much  in  the  dark.  Yet  in  its  way  it  was  to 
me  full  of  meaning,  most  characteristic,  most  illu- 
minating— and  it  fitted  in  with  the  picture  which  my 
own  imagination  had  drawn.  Out  of  a  tangle  of  hesi- 
tations and  doubts  she  had  plunged  into  her  wild  ad- 
venture. How  far  it  had  carried  her  it  was  not  pos- 


232  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

sible  to  say;  but  here  were  the  hesitations  and  doubts 
back  again.  After  the  impulsive  fervor  of  feeling  had 
had  its  way  with  her,  the  cool  and  cautious  brain  was 
awake  again — awake  and  struggling.  The  issue  was 
doubtful;  the  liberty  to  which  her  mind  clung  was 
"  precarious  " — menaced  and  assailed  by  a  potent  in- 
fluence. Past  experience  made  it  easy  to  appreciate 
the  state  in  which  she  was — her  wishes  on  one  side, 
her  fears  on  the  other — her  strong  inclination  to 
Octon  against  her  obstinate  independence,  her 
feelings  crying  for  surrender,  her  mental  instinct 
urging  that  she  should  still  keep  the  line  of  retreat 
open. 

But  was  it  still  open  in  any  effective  sense?  As  re- 
gards her  position,  so  far  as  the  opinion  of  the  world 
— of  her  world — went,  every  day  barred  it  more  and 
more.  She  must  know  that;  she  must  realize  how 
her  silence  would  be  interpreted,  how  no  news  about 
her  would  be  confidently  reckoned  the  worst  of  news. 
For  Octon  she  had  sacrificed  so  much  that  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  give  him  all — to  give  him  even 
her  liberty,  if  marriage  with  him  meant  the  loss  of  it. 
There  was  no  other  possible  conclusion  if  she  would 
look  at  the  matter  as  others  looked  at  it,  if  she  would 
use  the  eyes  and  ears  of  Catsford,  and  see  what  they 
made  of  her  situation.  But  perhaps  she  was  no  readier 
to  surrender  herself  to  them  than  to  Octon  himself. 
She  might  answer  that  in  her  own  soul  she  would  still 
be  free,  though  her  freedom  were  bought  at  a  great 
price,  though  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  she  had  for- 
feited her  right  to  it. 

My  memory  harked  back  to  a  conversation  which 


IN    THE    DOCK  233 

I  had  once  held  with  Alison.  A  mind  that  thought 
for  itself  in  worldly  matters,  I  had  suggested  to  him, 
would  very  likely  think  for  itself  in  moral  or  religious 
ones,  too — and  such  thought  was  apt  to  issue  in  sus- 
pending general  obligations  in  a  man's  own  case.  I 
had  hazarded  the  opinion  that  Miss  Driver  would 
be  capable  of  suspending  a  general  obligation  in  her 
own  case — as  the  result  of  careful  thought  about  it — 
as  an  exercise  of  power,  to  repeat  the  phrase  I  had 
used.  If  that  were  her  disposition  now — if  what  I 
had  foreshadowed  as  a  possibility  had  become  a  fact 
— would  Octon  save  her  from  the  results  of  it?  He 
was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  do  that.  Skeptic  in 
mind  and  rebel  in  temper,  he  would  not  insist  on 
obedience  to  obligations  in  whose  sanction  he  did  not 
believe,  nor  be  urgent  in  counseling  outward  con- 
formity with  conventions  which  he  disliked  and  took 
a  positive  pleasure  in  scorning.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  would  not  be  swayed  by  a  vulgar  self-interest;  he 
would  be  too  proud  to  seek  to  bind  her  to  him  that 
he  might  thus  bind  her  money  also.  If  she  said  "  I 
will  remain  free,"  he  would  acquiesce  and  might  even 
applaud.  If  she  said  "  I  will  be  free  and  yet  with 
you,"  it  was  not  likely  that  he  would  offer  any  strong 
opposition. 

Meanwhile  she  stood  where  people  who  arrogate 
to  themselves  the  liberty  of  defying  the  law  cannot 
reasonably  complain  of  standing — in  the  dock.  That 
is  the  fair  cost  of  the  freedom  they  claim.  Jenny  was 
arraigned  at  the  bar  of  the  public  opinion  of  her 
neighbors;  unless  she  could  and  would  clear  herself 
of  suspicion,  there  was  not  much  doubt  how  the  ver- 


234  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

diet  would  go.  The  first  overt  step  in  the  proceed- 
ings took  place  under  my  own  eyes. 

Cartmell  had  apprised  Bindlecombe  of  Jenny's 
wish  that  the  work  of  the  Institute  should  proceed 
in  her  absence,  and  of  her  financial  arrangements  to 
this  end.  Bindlecombe,  as  Chairman,  convened  a 
meeting  of  the  Committee.  Cartmell  was  out  of  town 
that  day  and  did  not  attend,  but  I  went  to  represent 
Jenny's  side  of  the  affair.  Fillingford  and  Alison  were 
talking  together  in  low  voices  when  I  came  in.  Fill- 
ingford greeted  me  with  his  usual  reserved  courtesy, 
Alison  with  even  more  than  his  wonted  kindness. 
Bindlecombe  was  visibly  nervous  and  perturbed  as 
he  read  to  us  Cartmell's  letter.  When  he  had  finished 
it,  he  looked  across  the  table  to  Alison  and  said,  "  I 
understand  that  you  have  something  to  say,  Mr. 
Alison?  " 

"  What  I  have  to  say,  sir,  is  soon  said,"  Alison  an- 
swered. He  spoke  low  and  very  gravely,  like  a  man 
who  discharges  an  imperative  but  distasteful  task. 
"  The  Institute  is  very  closely  connected  with  the 
personality  of  the  liberal — the  very  liberal — donor. 
In  my  opinion — and  I  believe  that  I  am  very  far  from 
being  alone  in  the  opinion — it  is  inexpedient  to  pro- 
ceed with  the  work  until  we  can  feel  sure  of  being 
able  to  enjoy  Miss  Driver's  personal  cooperation.  I 
move  that,  while  thanking  Miss  Driver  for  the  offer 
contained  in  the  letter  we  have  just  heard,  we  ex- 
press to  her  our  opinion  in  that  sense."  He  had  not 
looked  at  any  of  us,  but  had  kept  his  eyes  lowered 
as  he  spoke. 

There   was   a   moment's   pause.   Then   Fillingford 


IN    THE    DOCK  235 

said,  "  I  agree,  and  I  second  the  motion."  His  voice 
was  entirely  impassive.  "  I  don't  think  it  is  necessary 
for  me  to  add  anything." 

Bindlecombe  turned  to  me  with  an  air  of  inquiry. 

"  I  can  take  no  part  in  this,"  I  said.  "  It  is  simply 
for  me  to  hear  the  decision  of  the  Committee  and  to 
communicate  it  to  Miss  Driver  in  due  course." 

Bindlecombe  clasped  his  hands  nervously;  he  was 
acutely  distressed — and  not  only  for  the  threatened 
loss  of  his  darling  Institute.  He  knew  how  Jenny 
would  read  the  resolution,  and  Jenny  had  been  his 
idol. 

"Is — is  this  really  necessary?"  he  ventured  to 
ask,  though  Alison's  sad  gravity  and  Fillingford's 
cold  resoluteness  evidently  overawed  him.  "  Perhaps 
some  of  the  preliminary  work  could ?  ': 

Alison  interposed;  "  I  fear  I  must  ask  that  my 
resolution  be  put  as  it  stands." 

Fillingford  nodded,  drumming  lightly  on  the  table 
with  his  fingers.  Evidently  they  had  made  up  their 
minds;  if  the  resolution  were  not  passed,  they  would 
secede.  That  would  be  worse  than  the  resolution  it- 
self, and  would  make  progress  just  as  impossible. 

"  Then  I'll  put  it,"  said  Bindlecombe  reluctantly. 
"  No  gentleman  desires  to  say  any  more?  " 

No  more  was  said.  The  resolution  was  carried,  I, 
of  course,  not  voting. 

"  And  I  suppose  that  we  adjourn — sine  die?  "  said 
Bindlecombe. 

That  followed  as  of  course,  and  we  all  three  as- 
sented. Bindlecombe  rose  from  the  chair.  There,  for 
the  present  at  all  events,  was  an  end  of  the  Institute, 


236  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

there  Jenny's  first  public  and  official  rebuff.  Catsford 
would  have  to  be  told  what  had  been  decided,  why 
no  more  was  done  about  the  Institute.  I  had  no 
doubt  that  Alison  had  thought  of  this  and  had 
worded  his  resolution  with  a  view  to  its  publica- 
tion. 

Fillingford  and  Alison  went  out  of  the  room  to- 
gether, and  I  was  left  with  Bindlecombe.  (We  had 
met  at  his  house,  Ivydene  being  shut  up.)  "  I'm  very 
sorry  for  this,  Mr.  Austin,"  he  said. 

I  was  very  sorry,  too.  The  decision  would  not 
be  a  grateful  one  to  Jenny.  It  was  an  intimation 
that  her  idea  of  keeping  her  hold  on  Catsford,  even 
while  she  defied  it,  would  not  work;  the  dual  per- 
sonality of  munificent  Miss  Driver  of  Breysgate  and 
wayward  Jenny  Driver — of  where? — would  not  find 
acceptance. 

"  A  winter  abroad  is  not  eternity,  Mr.  Bindle- 
combe," said  I,  smiling.  "  We  shall  be  busy  at  the 
Institute  again  by  the  spring,  I  hope."  That,  of 
course,  was  speaking  to  my  cue — Jenny's  official  ver- 
sion of  her  departure;  she  was  wintering  abroad — 
that  was  all. 

"  I  hope  so,  I  hope  so,"  he  said,  but  he  hardly  pre- 
tended that  he  was  imposed  upon.  He  shook  his  head 
dolefully  and  looked  at  me  with  a  gloomy  signifi- 
cance. "  The  Rector's  a  hard  fellow  to  deal  with. 
Pleasant  as  can  be,  but  hard  as  a  brick  on — well, 
where  his  own  views  come  in.  He's  not  a  man  of  the 
world,  Mr.  Austin." 

Evidently  in  Bindlecombe's  opinion  a  man  of  the 
world  would  have  stuck  to  the  Institute,  even  if  he 


IN    THE    DOCK  237 

could  not  stick  to  its  donor — stuck  to  the  Institute 
and  carved  Non  Old  on  its  handsome  faqade;  it  would 
have  been  in  no  worse  case  than  many  imposing 
public  buildings — to  say  nothing  of  luxurious  pri- 
vate residences.  But  Alison  was  not  a  man  of  the 
world — and  in  this  instance  the  current  of  opinion 
was  with  him.  The  two  worlds  joined  in  condemning 
Jenny;  neither  as  an  individual  nor  as  a  local  in- 
stitution could  she  be  defended.  A  lurking  loyalty  in 
Bindlecombe — if  I  mistook  not,  a  reluctant  admira- 
tion in  Lacey — were  the  only  exceptions  to  the 
general  verdict — outside  her  own  retainers.  I  do  not 
think  that  we  asked  ourselves  questions  about  ap- 
proval or  disapproval,  condemnation  or  condonation. 
We  were  not  judges;  we  were,  in  one  way,  in  the 
fight. 

To  my  surprise  Alison  was  waiting  outside  the 
house.  When  I  came  out,  he  approached  me. 

"  Austin,  I  want  you  to  shake  hands  with  me,"  he 
said.  "  I  had  to  do  that,  you  know.  You  don't  sup- 
pose I  liked  doing  it?  " 

"  I'll  shake  hands,"  I  said.  "  I'm  not  particular. 
But  I  don't  feel  called  upon  to  have  any  opinion  as 
to  whether  you're  right,  nor  as  to  whether  you  liked 
doing  it  or  not." 

"  That  last  bit's  unfair,  anyhow,"  he  declared  in- 
dignantly. 

"  Fair  and  unfair!  Man,  man,  do  you  suppose  I'm 
worrying  about  things  like  that?  " 

I  had  lost  control  for  a  moment.  He  was  not  angry 
with  me;  he  seemed  to  understand,  and  patted  my 
shoulder  affectionately. 


238  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Of  course  I  know  you  didn't  like  doing  it,"  I 

growled.  "  But  does  that  make  things  any  better? ' 
"  Tell  her  I  didn't  like  doing  it,"  he  said.  "  If  only 

she  understood  why  I  had  to  do  it!  " 

Well,  from  neither  of  the  worlds  can  defiance  look 

for  mercy. 


CHAPTER    XVI 


NOT    PROVEN 


IN  the  stern  condemnation  of  moral  delinquen- 
cies, when  such  are  discovered  or  conjectured, 
we  may  be  content  to  find  nothing  but  what 
is  praiseworthy;  the  simultaneous  exhibition  of  a 
hungry  curiosity  about  them  is  one  of  those  features 
of  human  nature  which  it  is  best  to  accept  without 
comment — if  only  for  the  reason  that  no  man  can 
be  sure  that  he  does  not  in  some  degree  share  it. 
In  Catsford  at  this  time  it  was  decidedly  prominent. 
The  place  went  wild  on  the  news  that  Sir  John 
Aspenick,  happening  to  be  in  Paris  on  a  flying  visit, 
thought  that  he  saw  Jenny  go  by  as  he  stood  out- 
side the  Cafe  de  la  Paix:  great  was  the  disappoint- 
ment that  Sir  John  could  not  contrive  even  to  think 
that  he  had  seen  Octon  with  her!  Lady  Sarah  Lacey, 
working  on  the  feminine  clew  of  Jenny's  having  de- 
parted luggageless,  set  inquiries  afoot  among  Lon- 
don dressmakers,  with  the  happy  result  of  revealing 
the  fact  that  Jenny  had  bought  a  stock  of  several 
articles  of  wearing  apparel:  the  news  worked  back  to 
Chat  from  one  of  the  dressmakers,  and  from  Chat  I 
had  it,  with  more  details  of  the  wearing  apparel  that 
my  memory  carries.  Mrs.  Jepps  waylaid  Chat — who 

239 


24o  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

had  timidly  ventured  into  the  town  under  a  press- 
ing need  of  finding-  some  very  special  form  of  needle 
— in  the  main  street  and  tried  the  comparative 
method,  not  at  all  a  bad  mode  of  investigation  where 
manners  forbid  direct  questions.  She  told  Chat  num- 
bers of  stories  of  other  "  sad  cases  "  and  looked  to 
see  how  Chat  "  took  "  them — hoping  to  draw,  augur- 
like, conclusions  from  Chat's  expression.  I  myself — 
well,  I  would  not  be  uncharitable.  My  friends  were 
all  honorable  men;  they  might  naturally  conclude 
that  I  was  depressed  and  lonely;  why  look  farther 
for  the  cause  of  the  frequent  visits  from  them  which 
I  enjoyed?  Bindlecombe  and  a  dozen  more  so  hon- 
ored me,  and  Cartmell  told  me  that  only  the  severest 
office  discipline  kept  his  working  hours  sacred  from 
kind  intruders. 

Moreover,  a  little  problem  arose,  not  in  itself  seri- 
ous, but  showing  the  extreme  inconvenience  which 
results  when  people  who  are  in  a  position  to  confer 
pleasant  favors  so  act  as  to  make  it  doubtful  whether 
favors  can  properly  be  accepted  from  them.  Such  a 
state  of  affairs  puts  an  unfair  strain  on  virtue,  in- 
considerately demanding  martyrdom  where  right- 
eousness only  has  been  volunteered.  As  may  have 
been  gathered,  Jenny's  neighbors  were  in  the  habit 
of  using  the  road  through  her  park  as  an  alternative 
route  to  the  high  road  in  their  comings  and  goings 
to  and  from  Catsford.  For  some  it  was  shorter — as 
for  the  Wares,  the  Dormers,  and  the  Aspenicks;  for 
all  it  was  pleasanter.  What  was  to  be  done  about  this 
now?  Fillingford  had  no  doubt;  neither  he  nor  Lady 
Sarah  used  the  park  road  any  more;  but  then  the 


NOT    PROVEN  241 

road  was  no  great  saving  of  distance  for  the  folks 
at  the  Manor — their  martyrdom  was  easy — whereas 
it  was  very  materially  shorter  for  the  Wares,  the 
Dormers,  and,  above  all,  for  the  Aspenicks.  The 
question  was  so  acute  for  the  Aspenicks  that  I  heard 
of  Lady  Aspenick's  collecting  opinions  on  the  sub- 
ject from  persons  of  light  and  leading.  She  did  not 
consider  Fillingford's  course  impartial — nor  decisive 
of  the  question;  it  was  easy  for  him  to  take  the  vir- 
tuous line;  it  did  not  involve  his  going  pretty  nearly 
two  miles  out  of  his  way. 

Discussion  ran  high  on  the  question.  Mrs.  Jepps 
declared  against  using  the  road,  though  her  fat  pair 
of  horses  had  been  accustomed  to  get  what  little 
exercise  they  ever  did  get  along  it  three  afternoons 
a  week. 

"  If  I  use  the  road,  and  she  comes  back  and  finds 
me  using  it,  where  am  I?"  asked  Mrs.  Jepps.  "I 
can't  cut  her  when  I'm  driving  in  her  park  by  her 
permission.  Yet  I  may  feel  obliged  to  refuse  to  bow 
to  her!  " 

The  attitude  had  all  Mrs.  Jepps's  logic  in  it;  it  was 
unassailable.  Very  reluctantly  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dor- 
mer gave  in  to  it — they  would  go  round  by  the 
King's  highway,  longer  though  it  was.  Bertram 
Ware,  lawyer  and  politician,  stole  round  the  dif- 
ficulty— and  along  the  park  road — by  adopting  a 
provisional  attitude;  until  more  was  known,  he  felt 
justified  in  using — and  in  allowing  Mrs.  Ware  to  use 
— the  road.  He  reserved  liberty  of  action  if  more 
facts  condemnatory  of  Jenny  should  appear. 

The  Aspenicks  remained — to  whom  the  road  was 


242  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

more  precious  than  to  any  of  the  others.  Sir  John 
would  have  none  of  Ware's  provisional  attitude — it 
was  not  what  he  called  "  straight  ";  but  then  he  had 
a  prejudice  against  lawyers,  and  held  no  particularly 
high  opinion  of  Bertram  Ware. 

"  Make  up  your  mind,"  he  said  to  his  wife.  "  Either 
we  use  it  or  we  don't.  But  if  we  use  it,  it's  taking 
a  favor  from  her,  and  that  may  be  awkward  later 


on." 


Now  Lady  Aspenick  wanted  to  use  the  road  very 
much  indeed — and  not  merely  the  road  for  her  tan- 
dem, so  sadly  famous  in  history,  but  also  the  turf 
alongside  it  for  her  canters.  But  in  the  first  place 
Lady  Aspenick  was  herself  a  model  of  propriety,  and 
in  the  second — it  was  an  even  weightier  considera- 
tion— she  had  a  growing  girl;  Eunice  Aspenick  was 
now  nearly  sixteen — and  rode  with  her  mother.  Sup- 
posing Lady  Aspenick  and  Eunice  used  the  road, 
supposing  Jenny  were  guilty  of  enormities,  came  back 
guilty  of  them,  and  discovered  Lady  Aspenick,  with 
Eunice,  on  the  road!  Lady  Aspenick's  problem  was 
worse  than  Mrs.  Jepps's — because  of  Eunice  on  the 
one  hand,  and  of  Lady  Aspenick's  remarkably  strong 
desire  to  use  the  road  on  the  other. 

This  question  of  the  road — work  on  the  Institute 
at  a  standstill — no  more  parties  at  Breysgate  (what 
of  the  Flower  Show  next  summer?)!  Verily  Jenny 
was  causing  endless  inconvenience! 

It  would  not  be  just  to  say  that  this  difficulty 
about  the  road — and  Eunice — determined  Lady  As- 
penick's attitude  toward  Jenny;  it  is  perhaps  per- 
missible to  conjecture  that  it  led  her  to  reconsider  it. 


NOT    PROVEN  243 

After  the  lapse  of  a  fortnight  she  came  out  on  Jenny's 
side,  and  signified  the  same  by  calling  on  Chat  at 
Breysgate  Priory.  Chat  and  I  sometimes  consoled 
one  another's  loneliness  at  afternoon  tea;  I  was 
present  when  Lady  Aspenick  arrived. 

We  had  our  lesson  pat — so  long  as  we  were  not 
cross-examined.  Jenny  was  wintering  abroad;  Chat's 
health  (this  was  our  own  supplement)  had  made 
traveling  inadvisable  for  her,  and  Jenny  had  found 
other  companions.  Lady  Aspenick  was  most  affable 
to  the  story;  she  admitted  it  to  belief  at  once.  Sym- 
pathy with  Chat,  pleasure  at  not  being  deprived  of 
Chat's  society,  kind  messages  through  Chat  to 
Jenny — all  came  as  easily  and  naturally  as  possible. 
Not  an  awkward  question!  It  was  with  real  gratitude 
that  I  conducted  Lady  Aspenick  to  her  carriage.  But 
she  had  a  word  for  me  there. 

"  I  didn't  want  to  talk  about  it  to  that  poor  old 
thing,"  she  said,  "  but  have  you  any — news,  Mr. 
Austin?  " 

'  None,  except  what  I've  told  you.  She  isn't  a 
great  letter-writer." 

"  They're  saying  horrid  things.  Well,  Sarah  Lacey 
would,  of  course.  I  can't  see  any  reason  for  believing 
them.  I'm  on  her  side!  One  may  wonder  at  her  taste 
— one  must — but  she  has  a  right  to  please  herself, 
and  to  take  her  own  time  about  it.  Of  course  that 
night  journey — !  "  Lady  Aspenick  smiled  in  a  depre- 
cating manner. 

"  Impulsive!  "  I  observed. 

Lady  Aspenick  caught  at  the  word  joyfully. 
"That's  it — impulsive!  That's  what  I've  always  said. 


244  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Dear  Jenny  is  impulsive — that's  all!"  She  got  into 
her  carriage  and  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  her 
to  Mrs.  Jepps's.  She  was  going  to  tell  Mrs.  Jepps  that 
Jenny  was  impulsive — going  by  the  road  through 
the  park  to  tell  Mrs.  Jepps  that  it  was  no  more  than 
that. 

Her  own  line  taken,  Lady  Aspenick  gathered  a 
tiny  faction  to  raise  Jenny's  banner.  They  could  not 
do  much  against  Lady  Sarah's  open  viciousness,  Fill- 
ingford's  icy  silence,  the  union  of  High  Church  and 
Low  in  the  persons  and  the  adherents  of  Alison  and 
of  Mrs.  Jepps.  But  Sir  John  followed  his  wife,  Bin- 
dlecombe  took  courage  to  uplift  a  friendly  voice,  and 
old  Mr.  Dormer  began  to  waver.  His  memories  went 
back  to  George  IV. — days  in  which  they  were  not 
hard  on  pretty  women — having,  indeed,  remarkably 
little  right  to  be.  Mr.  Dormer  was  reported  to  be 
inclined  to  think  that  the  men  of  the  surrounding 
families  might  ride  in  Jenny's  park — about  their 
ladies  it  was,  perhaps,  another  question.  It  was  un- 
derstood that  Lady  Aspenick's  faction  gave  great 
offense  at  Fillingford  Manor.  The  alliance  between 
the  two  houses  had  been  close,  and  Fillingford 
Manor  saw  treachery  to  itself  in  any  defense  of 
Jenny. 

So  they  debated  and  gossiped,  sparred  and  wran- 
gled— and  no  more  news  came.  At  the  Priory  we 
began  to  settle  down  into  a  sort  of  routine,  trying  to 
find  ourselves  work  to  do,  trying  to  fill  the  lives  that 
seemed  now  so  empty.  Our  position — like  Bertram 
Ware's  attitude  about  the  park  road — was  provi- 
sional— hopelessly  provisional.  We  were  not  living; 


NOT    PROVEN  245 

we  were  only  waiting.  Not  the  actual  events  of  to- 
day, but  the  possible  event  of  to-morrow  was  the 
thing  for  which  we  existed.  It  was  like  listening  per- 
petually for  a  knock  on  the  door.  Little  could  be 
made  of  a  life  like  that.  Well,  we  were  not  to  sink 
into  the  dullness  of  our  routine  just  yet. 

In  my  youth  I  have  heard  a  sage  preach  to  the 
young  men,  his  hearers  and  critical  disciples,  on  the 
text  of  the  certainty  of  life;  discarding,  perhaps 
thinking  trite,  perhaps  deeming  misleading,  the  old 
Memento  mori.  He  bade  them  recollect  that  for  prac- 
tical purposes  they  had  to  reckon  on — and  with — 
thirty,  forty,  fifty,  years  of  life  and  activity.  That  was 
a  long  time — order  the  many  days!  You  could  not 
afford  to  calculate  on  the  accident  of  an  early  death 
to  end  your  responsibility.  It  was  well  said;  yet  not 
even  the  broadest  sanest  argument  can  altogether 
persuade  Death  out  of  his  traditional  role,  nor  in- 
duce Atropos  to  wield  her  shears  always  without 
caprice.  Yet  again,  in  this  case  there  seemed  little 
caprice;  the  likely  ending  came  rather  quickly — that 
was  all;  it  was  just  such  an  ending  as,  in  some  form 
or  other,  might  have  been  expected — just  such  as 
once,  in  talk  with  me,  the  man  himself  had,  hardly 
gravely  yet  quite  sincerely,  treated  as  likely,  almost 
as  inevitable. 

I  was  the  first  to  get  the  news — at  breakfast  time 
one  November  morning.  A  telegram  came  to  me 
from  Jenny;  it  was  sent  from  Tours.  "  Leonard  has 
died  from  wound  received  in  a  duel.  Do  not  come  to 
me.  I  want  to  be  alone. — Jenny  Driver." 

He  had  insulted  somebody — in  a  country  where 


246  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

men  still  fought  on  the  point  of  honor.  The  conclu- 
sion sprang  forward  on  a  glance.  He  had  passed 
much  time  abroad,  I  knew — the  code  was  not 
strange  to  him,  nor  the  use  of  his  weapons.  Though 
both  had  been  strange,  little  would  he  have  shunned 
the  fight!  He  would  take  joy  in  it — joy  in  shedding 
the  advantage  of  his  mighty  strength,  glad  to  meet 
his  man  on  even  terms,  eagerly  accepting  the  level- 
ing power  of  a  bullet.  He  had  made  himself  intol- 
erable again;  some  one  had  uprisen  and  done  away 
with  the  incubus  of  him.  The  whole  affair  seemed 
just  what  might  be  looked  for;  he  had  died  fighting 
— for  him  a  natural  death. 

So  the  life  was  out  of  the  big  man — and  he  had 
been  so  full  of  it.  That  was  strange  to  think  of. 

Somehow  he  seemed  incompatible  with  death.  I 
remember  drawing  a  long  breath  as  I  said  to  myself 
"Dead!"  and  thought  grewsomely  of  the  carrying 
out  of  that  great  coffin — with  all  the  mighty  weight 
of  him  inside;  even  dead  he  would  oppress  men  by 
size,  insolently  crushing  their  shoulders  with  his  bulk. 
"  Part  of  the  objection  to  me  is  because  I'm  so 
large,"  he  had  said.  Even  the  undertaker's  men 
would  share  in  that  objection.  "  I  shall  certainly  be 
stamped  out."  Ah,  well,  small  wonder — and  what  a 
pity!" 

He  had  a  power  over  me;  something  of  his  force 
had  reached  me,  too — or  my  thoughts  would  not 
have  dwelt  on  him  so  long;  they  would  have  turned 
sooner  to  Jenny.  To  what  end?  Her  message  forbade 
the  one  thing  which  it  was  in  my  mind  to  do — go  to 
her  directly.  She  would  not  have  it;  she  would  be — ■ 


NOT    PROVEN  247 

as  she  was — alone.  I  had  no  thought  of  disobedience 
— only  a  great  sorrow  that  I  must  obey.  I  read  the 
telegram  again.  "Jenny  Driver!"  She  had  hesitated 
too  long.  Ways  could  not  be  kept  open  forever.  Mr. 
Powers  had  taught  her  this  truth  once,  and  she  had 
not  hearkened.  Death  himself  came  to  enforce  the 
lesson.  She  stood  no  longer  between  the  fascination 
that  she  loved  and  feared  and  the  independence  which 
she  cherished  and  yet  wearied  of.  She  was  free  per- 
force; the  tenure  of  her  liberty  was  no  longer  pre- 
carious; and  the  joy  of  her  heart  was  dead.  Her 
equipoise — another  of  her  delicate  balancings — was 
hopelessly  upset;  when  Death  flung  his  weight  into 
one  of  her  scales,  the  other  kicked  the  beam. 

So  long  as  I  was  alone,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to 
think  of  the  bearings  of  the  event — and  of  its  an- 
nouncement— on  her  outward  fortunes.  My  mind 
was  with  herself — asking  how  she  faced  the  thing,  in 
what  mood  it  left  her;  nay,  going  back  to  the  days 
before  it,  viewing  them  in  the  alien  light  of  their 
sudden  end.  Not  what  would  be  said  or  thought,  but 
what  was,  engrossed  my  meditation.  Death  brings 
that  color  to  the  mind;  it  takes  us  "beyond  these 
voices."  But  they  who  live  must  soon  return  within 
hearing. 

I  did  not  hear  Cartmell  come  in — I  had  been  out 
before  breakfast,  and  I  believe  I  had  left  my  door 
ajar.  His  hand  was  on  my  shoulder  before  I  was 
aware  of  his  presence.  He  held  a  morning  paper  in 
his  hand,  but  he  did  not  show  it  to  me  directly.  He 
looked  down  in  my  face  as  I  sat  in  my  armchair  and 
then  said,  "  You've  heard,  haven't  you?" 


248  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  giving  him  Jenny's  telegram. 

He  read  it.  "  This  must  be  between  you  and  me, 
Austin.  So  far,  there's  nothing  in  the  paper  to  show 
that  she  was  there — to  show  who  the  woman  was,  I 


mean." 


"  The  woman?  " 

"  The  woman  mentioned  in  the  paper.  Read  it." 
He  pushed  it  into  my  hand.  His  practical  mind  did 
not  waste  itself  in  memories  or  speculation;  it  flew 
to  the  present  need.  I  had  lost  myself  in  wonderings 
about  the  man  and  the  woman;  he  was  concerned 
solely  with  our  local  institution — Miss  Driver  of 
Breysgate.  He  was  right. 

The  telegram  in  the  paper  came  from  Reuter's 
news  agency.  "  A  quarrel  in  the  Cafe  de  l'Univers 
last  night  resulted  in  a  duel  this  morning,  in  which 
an  Englishman  named  Octon  was  mortally  wounded 
at  the  first  fire.  He  subsequently  expired  at  the  house 
of  a  lady,  understood  to  be  Mrs.  Octon,  in  the  Rue 
Balzac,  to  which  he  had  been  carried  at  his  own  re- 
quest." 

Beneath  was  a  short  paragraph  stating  that  it  was 
conjectured  that  the  "  deceased  gentleman  "  was 
"  Mr.  Leonard  Octon,  the  well-known  traveler  and 
entomologist."  On  inquiry  at  his  publishers',  those 
gentlemen  had  stated  that  Mr.  Octon  was,  to  their 
knowledge,  traveling  in  France. 

"  Not  much  harm  done  if  it  stops  there,"  said  Cart- 
mell,  thoughtfully  rubbing  his  hands  together. 

"  How  can  it?  There'll  have  to  be  an  inquest — or 
something  corresponding  to  it,  I  suppose?  ,: 

"  She's  very  clever." 


tt 


NOT    PROVEN  249 

Will  she  care  about  being  clever? "  I  asked, 
studying  the  paragraph  again.  "  Understood  to  be 
Mrs.  Octon  "  had  a  smack  of  Jenny's  own  ambiguity 
and  elusiveness.  And  it  hardly  sounded  as  though  the 
house  to  which  he  had  been  carried  at  his  own  re- 
quest were  the  house  where  he  himself  had  been 
lodging. 

"  Of  course  it'll  be  all  over  Catsford  in  an  hour. 
There's  no  helping  that.  But,  as  I  say,  there's  no 
particular  harm  done  yet." 

"  They'll  guess,  won't  they?  " 

"  Of  course  they  will;  but  there's  all  the  difference 
between  guessing  and  having  it  in  print.  We  must 
wait.  I've  got  to  go  out  of  town — and  I'm  glad 
of  it." 

I  did  not  go  away,  but  I  hid  myself.  The  only  per- 
son I  saw  that  day  was  Chat:  she  was  entitled  to  the 
news. 

Telling  her  was  sad  work;  her  devotion  to  Octon 
rose  up  against  her  accusingly.  She  railed  at  herself 
for  all  her  dealings  with  Jenny;  old-time  delin- 
quencies in  duty  at  the  Simpsons'  dressed  them- 
selves in  the  guise  of  great  crimes;  she  had  been  a 
guilty  party  to  Jenny's  misdemeanors;  they  had  led 
to  this. 

"  I  shall  have  to  render  an  account  for  it,"  said 
poor  Chat,  rocking  her  body  to  and  fro,  as  was  her 
habit  in  moments  of  agitation:  her  speech  was  ob- 
viously reminiscent  of  church  services.  "  If  I  had 
done  my  duty  by  her,  this  would  never  have  hap- 
pened." I  am  afraid  that  "  this  "  meant  the  scandal, 
rather  th^n  any  conduct  which  gave  rise  to  it.  But 


250  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

if  Chat  were  going  to  be  so  aggressively  penitent  as 
this,  the  case  was  lost. 

"  We  must  hope  for  the  best — and,  anyhow,  put 
the  best  face  on  it,"  I  urged. 

Chat  cheered  up  a  little.  "  Dear  Jenny  is  very 
resourceful."  Cartmell  had  observed  that  she  was 
clever.  I  was  waiting  with  a  vague  expectancy  for 
some  move  from  her,  some  turn  or  twist  in  her  favor. 
We  had  not  lost  faith  in  her,  any  of  us;  the  faith  had 
become  blind — if  you  will,  instinctive  —  surviving 
even  the  Waterloo  of  her  flight  and  this  calamitous 
tragedy. 

Were  we  wrong?  Only  the  future  could  show  that ; 
but  the  next  day  brought  us  some  encouragement. 
There  was  a  fuller  paragraph,  confirming  the  con- 
jectured identification  of  Octon,  giving  a  notice  of 
his  work,  and  the  name  of  his  opponent  in  the  duel 
— an  officer  belonging  to  an  old  family  distinguished 
for  its  orthodox  Catholic  opinions.  "  The  quarrel  is 
said  to  have  originated  in  a  discussion  of  religious 
differences."  That  sounded  quite  likely,  and  relieved 
the  fear  that  it  might  have  sprung  from  a  more  com- 
promising origin.  Then  came — well,  something  very 
like  an  apology  for  that  phrase  about  the  lady  "  un- 
derstood to  be  Mrs.  Octon."  The  lady  was  not, 
it  now  appeared,  Mrs.  Octon;  she  was  "a  Miss 
Driver  "  (A  Miss  Driver — that  would  sound  odd  to 
Catsford!)  to  whom  the  deceased  gentleman  was  en- 
gaged to  be  married.  This  Miss  Driver  had  taken  a 
house  in  the  Rue  Balzac,  where  she  was  residing  with 
another  lady,  her  friend:  the  deceased  gentleman  had 
recently  arrived  at  the  Hotel  de  l'Univers;  notice  of 


NOT    PROVEN  251 

their  intended  marriage  had  been  given  at  the  British 
Consulate  three  days  before  the  fatal  occurrence.  A 
few  days  more  would  have  seen  them  man  and  wife. 
"  Much  sympathy  is  felt  for  the  lady  under  the  very 
painful  circumstances  of  the  case.  It  is  understood 
that  she  will  leave  Tours  immediately  after  the  fu- 
neral." 

It  would  hardly  be  doing  Cartmell  a  wrong  to  de- 
scribe him  as  gleeful;  the  statement  was  so  much  less 
damaging  than  might  have  been  expected.  To  the 
world  at  large  it  was,  indeed,  not  damaging  at  all;  it 
rather  appealed  to  sympathy  and  invested  Jenny  with 
a  pathetic  interest.  In  Catsford  the  case  was  differ- 
ent: there  was  the  flight,  the  silence,  the  interval. 
But  even  for  Catsford  we  had  a  case — and  the  differ- 
ence between  even  a  bad  case  and  no  case  at  all  is, 
in  matters  like  this,  enormous. 

What  was  the  truth  of  it?  It  was  not  possible  to 
believe  that  the  notice  to  the  Consulate  was  a  mere 
maneuver,  a  pretense,  and  a  sham.  She  was  neither 
so  cold-blooded  nor  so  foolish  as  that — and  Octon 
would  have  ridiculed  such  a  sham  out  of  existence. 
The  notice  to  the  Consulate  showed  that  her  long 
hesitation  had  at  last  ended — possibly  on  Octon's  en- 
treaties, though  I  continued  to  doubt  that — possibly 
for  conscience'  sake,  possibly  from  regard  for  the 
world's  opinion.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  let  go 
her  "  precarious  liberty."  But  for  this  stroke  of  fate 
she  would  have  become  Octon's  wife. 

How  did  the  stroke  of  fate  leave  her?  Or,  rather, 
leave  her  fame?  Of  herself  I  knew  nothing — save  that 
she  would  be  alone.    She  loved  an   equipoise.    Her 


252  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

fame  was  balanced  in  one  now.  Fillingford  and  Lady 
Sarah,  Mrs.  Jepps  and  Alison,  would  think  still  what 
they  had  thought;  probably  the  bulk  of  opinion 
would  be  with  them.  But  we  had  a  case.  We  could 
brazen  it  out.  Bertram  Ware  could  still  be  provi- 
sional, Lady  Aspenick  could  use  the  road  through 
the  park — even  Eunice  might  ride  with  her;  and  old 
Mr.  Dormer  would  scarcely  strain  the  proprieties  to 
breaking  point  if  he  permitted  himself  to  be  accom- 
panied by  his  wife.  The  verdict  could  be  "  Not 
Proven." 

A  week  later  the  French  authorities  forwarded  to 
me  a  letter  from  Octon — found  on  his  table  at  the 
hotel  and  written  the  evening  before  the  meeting: 

"  My  Dear  Austin — I  have  to  fight  a  fellow  to- 
morrow— a  very  decent  fellow — on  the  ostensible 
ground  of  my  having  spoken  disrespectfully  of  the 
Pope,  which  naturally  is  not  at  all  the  real  cause  of 
quarrel.  I  rather  think  I  shall  be  killed — first,  for  the 
sensible  reason  that  he  is  angry  (I  hit  him.  '  Of  course 
you  did,'  I  hear  you  say)  and  a  good  shot;  secondly, 
because  she  has  at  last  elected  to  settle  things  and 
that  offers  a  temptation  to  chance — not  such  a  sen- 
sible reason  —  indeed  an  utterly  nonsensical  one, 
which  accordingly  entirely  convinces  me.  I  leave  her 
to  you.  Don't  try  to  marry  her — it  only  worries  her 
— but  serve  her  well,  and  as  you  serve  her,  so  may 
God  Almighty,  in  whom  I  believe  though  you  think 
I  don't,  serve  you.  You  couldn't  spend  your  life 
(you're  not  a  great  man,  you  know)  to  better  ac- 
count. How  I  have  spent  mine  doesn't  matter.  I  have 


NOT    PROVEN  253 

on  the  credit  side  of  the  balance  the  discovery  of  five 
new  insects.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  will  not  be 
overlooked. — Yours,  L.  O." 

New  insects — five!  Private  faults — how  many? 
What  is  the  Table  of  Weights?  That  must  be  known, 
to  strike  the  balance  of  Leonard  Octon's  life. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

ONE    OF   TWO    LEGACIES 

THE  clouds  settled  down  over  Jenny;  a  veil 
of  silence  obscured  her.  Business  letters 
were  still  exchanged  through  the  bankers 
at  Paris,  but  hers  bore  no  postmarks;  they  must  have 
arrived  in  Paris  under  cover;  they  came  under  cover 
to  Breysgate,  and  thus  gave  no  indication  of  her 
whereabouts.  She  was  in  constant  communication 
with  Cartmell  about  her  affairs;  to  me  she  wrote 
much  seldomer  and  only  on  necessity;  to  Chat  she 
never  wrote  at  all.  To  none  of  us,  I  believe,  did 
she  say  a  word  about  what  had  happened — and  she 
certainly  said  no  word  to  Catsford.  Nor  did  we; 
her  orders  stood — no  excuses,  no  explanations,  no 
guesses.  Thus  starved  of  food,  Catsford's  interest  at 
last  languished;  they  did  not  forget  Jenny,  but  talk 
about  her  catastrophe  and  Octon's  death  died  down. 
Nobody  having  anything  fresh  to  tell  or  any  guess 
to  make  that  had  not  been  made  already,  the  topic 
grew  stale. 

The  long  wait  began — it  was  a  wait  to  me,  for  I 
knew  that  she  meant  to  come  back  in  the  end — and 
lasted  for  nearly  three  years.  I  employed  an  ample 
leisure  in  writing  my  essay  on  "  The  Future  of  Re- 
ligious and  Ethical  Thought."  It  brought  me  some 

254 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  255 

credit  in  the  outside  world — or  rather  the  small  part 
of  it  that  cares  for  such  speculations;  but  indifference 
was  the  best  I  hoped  from  Catsford — and  I  did  not 
altogether  achieve  that.  Friendship  sometimes  gives 
a  writer  what  I  may  term  unnatural  readers — and  not 
with  the  happiest  results.  Alison  continued  to  be  kind 
and  cordial  to  me,  but  he  would  not  talk  about  my 
book.  Mrs.  Jepps — what  business  had  she  with  such 
a  book  at  all? — shook  her  head  over  it,  and  over  me, 
very  solemnly,  and,  as  I  heard,  was  not  slow  to  trace 
a  connection  between  Jenny's  acts  and  my  opinions. 
I  did  the  local  reputation  of  Breysgate  no  good  by 
that  book,  though  its  reception  in  the  Press  flattered 
my  vanity  considerably. 

More  important  things  happened  in  the  neighbor- 
hood— for  three  years  make  differences  in  a  little 
society.  Old  Mr.  Dormer  died,  carrying  off  with 
him  into  the  inaudible  much  agreeable  anecdote;  his 
cousin,  -a  young  man  of  thirty,  reigned  at  Hingston 
in  his  stead.  Bertram  Ware  was  no  longer  M.P.;  the 
domestic  dissensions,  in  which  Jenny  had  once  seen 
an  opportunity  for  herself,  had  ended  in  his  retiring 
at  the  General  Election;  he  was  said  to  be  sulky,  and 
to  be  talking  of  selling  his  place  and  going  away. 
Lacey,  his  majority  just  attained,  had  been  put  for- 
ward in  his  stead,  and  elected  after  a  stiff  fight  with 
an  eloquent  stranger  from  London — (Bindlecombe 
reserved  himself  till  Catsford  should  be  given  a 
borough  member!) — I  did  not  follow  closely  Lacey's 
doings — or  anybody's — at  Westminster,  but  he  was 
assiduous  in  his  social  duties  in  the  constituency. 
There  was  no  change  at  Fillingford  Manor,  save  that 


256  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

its  master  looked  more  definitely  middle-aged,  and 
its  mistress  riveted  on  our  necks  the  power  which 
Jenny's  rise  had  threatened.  Finally,  Lady  Aspenick's 
growing  girl  had  grown,  had  "  come  out,"  and  was 
a  personage  in  our  society.  She  was  a  rather  pretty, 
tall,  fair  girl,  great  at  all  outdoor  pursuits.  The  gos- 
sips had  already  begun  to  say  that  she  would  make 
a  capital  bride  for  Lacey — if  only  there  were  more 
money!  The  little  cloud  which  had  arisen  between 
the  two  households  over  Jenny  had  naturally  passed 
away,  when  absence  and  silence  removed  Jenny  from 
the  arena  of  discussion.  None  the  less  Lady  Aspenick 
still  used  our  road — and  still  Fillingford  Manor  did 
not. 

Such  was  the  petty  chronicle.  The  Institute  found 
no  place  in  it.  There  nothing  was  done;  even  Bindle- 
combe  seemed  no  longer  sanguine.  Hatcham  Ford, 
with  its  windows  shuttered  and  its  gravel-path  grass- 
grown,  witnessed  to  a  project  apparently  still-born, 
no  less  than  it  recalled  the  catastrophe  of  that  last 
night.  When  I  passed  by,  I  could  not  help  expecting 
to  see  Octon's  great  figure  come  out  and  slouch 
across  the  road — to  smoke  a  pipe  with  Mr.  Powers! 
He  did  not  come,  and  a  most  respectable  insurance 
agent  now  dwelt  where  Mr.  Powers  had  played  his 
unedifying  game.  Nor  was  the  Flower  Show  any 
longer  part  of  our  Breysgate  programme.  Cartmell 
had  offered  the  grounds,  but  the  Committee  pre- 
ferred to  accept  a  proposal  from  Fillingford.  For 
the  last  two  years  it  had  been  held  at  the  Manor, 
and  was  to  be  held  there  again  this  year — this  the 
third  summer  since  Jenny  left  us. 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  257 

Then  she  came  back.  Her  return  was  as  sudden 
and  as  unannounced  as  her  departure,  but  otherwise 
marked  by  considerably  more  decorum. 

I  was  writing  one  morning  after  lunch,  and  had 
wandered  to  the  window,  to  seek  from  the  empty  air 
an  improbable  inspiration.  Suddenly  I  saw  the  un- 
paralleled spectacle  of  Loft  running.  Loft  running! 
I  had  never  associated  him  with  running,  and  should 
about  as  soon  have  expected  to  see  St.  Paul's  Cathe- 
dral dancing  a  fling  down  Ludgate  Hill.  But  there 
he  came,  down  the  path  from  the  Priory.  As  soon 
as  he  got  near  me,  he  shouted  excitedly,  "  She's 
come  back,  sir,  she's  come  back!  "  Then  he  came  to 
a  stand  outside  the  window,  and  recovered  his  pro- 
fessional demeanor  at  the  cost  of  some  confusion.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  Miss  Driver  orders  me  to 
tell  you  that  she  has  just  returned,  and  will  be  glad 
to  see  you  in  half  an  hour." 

"  When  did  she  come?  " 

"  Just  in,  sir — the  2.45  from  London,  it  must  be." 

"  How  does  she  look?  " 

"  Much  the  same  as  usual,  sir — a  little  thinner  in 
the  face  perhaps." 

I  looked  at  Loft;  he  was  grinning.  So,  I  suppose, 
was  I.  "  This  is  good,  Loft." 

"  You  may  say  that,  sir!  " 

"  Did  she  come  alone?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Her  maid — a  Frenchwoman,  I  think,  sir 
— and  a  young  lady.  If  she'd  brought  twenty,  she'd 
have  found  the  house  all  ready  for  them." 

"  I'm  sure  she  would.  Tell  her  I'll  come  up  in  half 
an  hour." 


258  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Her  coming  transformed  everything  for  me;  it 
seemed  to  put  life  into  the  place,  life  into  the  big  dull 
house  on  the  hill,  life  into  my  little  den,  life  into  that 
summer's  day.  It  was  the  breaking  of  a  long  frost, 
the  awakening  from  a  stupor.  The  coming  that  I  had 
always  believed  in  began  to  seem  incredible  only 
now,  when  it  had  happened;  incredible  it  seemed  that 
by  just  walking  up  the  hill  I  could  see  Jenny  again 
and  hear  her  voice.  Absence  and  silence  had  rendered 
her  so  distant  to  sight  or  sound,  so  intangible  and 
remote.  My  last  clear  memory  of  her  was  still  at 
Hatcham  Ford — as  she  asked  Fillingford  for  the  loan 
of  his  carriage,  and,  with  "  God  bless  you,  Austin," 
vanished  into  the  night.  A  man  can,  I  suppose,  get 
on  without  anyone,  if  he  must ;  but  he  cannot  always 
make  out  how  he  has  managed  to  do  it. 

I  found  her  sitting  in  her  old  place  in  the  big 
drawing-room;  she  wore — whether  by  purpose  or  not 
what  was  in  effect  slight  mourning,  a  white  summer 
frock  with  touches  of  black.  Yes,  her  face  was  a  little 
thinner,  but  it  had  not  lost  its  serenity.  She  was  less 
a  girl,  more  a  woman — but  not  a  woman  prematurely 
aged. 

"  Dear  Austin!  "  she  said,  as  I  kissed  the  hand  she 
held  out  to  me.  "  You've  waited  a  long  while — here 
I  am  at  last!  You've  become  famous  in  the  interval 
— yes,  you  have.  I've  seen  your  book,  and  I  wish 
Leonard  could  have  read  it.  He'd  have  liked  it.  But 
though  you're  famous,  still  you  waited  for  me!" 

"  I  don't  think  you  expected  me  to  do  anything 
else." 

She   smiled  at  me.    "  Perhaps   not.    But,   do  you 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  259 

know,  I'm  afraid  you've  done  something  else  than 
grow  famous.  Have  you  grown  into  an  old  bachelor? 
You  look  rather  like  it." 

"  I  expect  I  have,"  said  I  ruefully,  and  with  an 
anxious  gaze  at  my  coat.  "  It's  rather  an  old  coat, 
isn't  it?" 

"  And  the  knees  of  your  trousers!  "  pursued  Jenny 
remorselessly. 

They  were  atrocious — there  was  no  denying  it. 
"  There's  been  nobody  to  dress  for.  I'll  order  a  new 
suit  to-morrow." 

"  Things  begin  to  move  directly  I  come  back, 
don't  they?  Is  there  any  news  in  the  neighborhood?  " 

I  told  her  my  little  budget,  sketching  it  in  as 
lightly  as  I  could  and  with  as  little  reference  to  her- 
self. She  fastened  on  the  news  about  Eunice  As- 
penick. 

"  Grown  up,  of  course,  by  now,  isn't  she?  And  you 
say  she's  pretty.  Very  pretty?  " 

"  Not  so  very,  in  my  judgment.  Very  fresh  and 
healthy,  and  rather  handsome." 

Jenny  smiled  mysteriously.  "  Oh,  that  doesn't  mat- 
ter— if  it  comes  to  no  more  than  that,"  she  said  con- 
temptuously. She  saw  me  smiling.  '  Oh,  yes,  I'm 
scheming  again!  "  she  declared  with  a  laugh.  "  Not 
for  myself,  though.  I've  done  with  schemes  about 
myself." 

"  At  five-and-twenty?  " 

Jenny  grew  grave.  "  Things  count,  not  years — or, 
anyhow,  sooner  than  years.  Have  I  any  friends  left?  '■ 

She  smiled  again  when  I  told  her  of  Lady  As- 
penick's  faction,  and  how  Lady  Aspenick  still  used 


26o  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

the  road.  "  Come,  that's  not  so  bad,"  was  her  com- 
ment, rather  playfully  than  seriously  given.  :'  And 
you  ask  me  no  questions?  "  she  said  the  next  mo- 
ment, rather  abruptly. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  ask  you  any  questions.  I 
was  very  much  grieved  for  him." 

She  nodded.  "  When  I  went  away  with  him,"  she 
said,  "  I  burned  my  boats.  I  wanted  them  burned, 
Austin.  I  was  so  sick  of  doubts — and  of  tricks  and 
maneuvers.  Recklessness  seemed  fine;  and  everything 
seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  the  world — except  me 
and  him.  There  was  some  business  to  be  done  and 
I  did  it — with  the  surface  of  my  mind;  it  made  no 
real  part  of  my  thoughts.  There  I  was  all  hatred  for 
what  I  had  been  doing — yes,  and  horrible  hatred  of 
having  been  found  out — I'd  better  be  frank  about 
that.  I'd  been  tricking — I  wanted  to  defy.  Leonard 
didn't  mind  defying  either,  did  he?  That  lasted  a 
week — ten  days,  perhaps.  Then  the  old  thing  came 
back — the  fear  of  him,  the  fear  of  it.  I  couldn't  help 
it — it's  so  deep  in  my  blood,  Austin.  He  told  me  I 
ought  to  marry  him  for  my  own  sake — for  his  own 
he  was  indifferent.  I  think  he  really  was.  I  was  ter- 
ribly afraid  but,  as  you  must  know  from  the  papers, 
I  agreed,  and  everything  was  in  train  when — he  died. 
That  was  my  fault  partly — but  only  partly.  The 
young  man  did — make  a  mistake  about  me — but  he 
apologized  most  humbly  and  courteously.  But  Leon- 
ard wouldn't  take  it  properly,  and  picked  a  quarrel 
with  him  the  next  evening." 

"  Then  it  doesn't  seem  to  have  been  your  fault." 

"  My  being  —  vulnerable  —  made  Leonard  more, 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  261 

even  more,  than  usually  aggressive.  That's  all.  They 
brought  him  back  to  me  dying.  He  lived  only  about 
half  an  hour.  We  were  curiously  happy  in  that  half 
hour — but  it  was  terrible  afterwards."  She  fell  into 
silence,  her  eyes  very  sorrowful.  Then  she  turned 
to  me,  with  a  gesture  of  her  hands.  "  That's  all 
the  story — and  it's  for  you  alone — because  you're 
Austin." 

I  took  her  hand  for  a  moment  and  pressed  it.  "  For 
me  alone — I  thank  you." 

"  A  thing  like  that  seems  to  sweep  across  life  like  a 
hurricane,  doesn't  it?  Leveling  everything,  destroy- 
ing such  a  lot!  " 

"  You've  come  back  to  build  it  all  up  again." 

She  smiled  for  a  moment.  "  So  you've  found  that 
out?  But  I  can't  build  it  all  up.  Some  things  I  shall 
never  try  to  build  again.  The  track  of  the  hurricane 
will  always  be  left." 

"Time,  time,  time!"  said  I. 

"  Not  even  time.  Life's  not  over — but  it's  life  with 
a  difference.  I  don't  complain.  I  accept  that  readily. 
I  almost  welcome  it.  I  may  cheat  the  world,  but  I 
won't  cheat  myself.  I'm  not  at  my  old  trick  of  having 
it  both  ways  for  myself,  Austin." 

She  was  determined  to  see  clearly  herself,  but  ad- 
mitted no  obligation  to  allow  outsiders  a  view.  She 
would  not  minimize  the  thing  for  herself,  but  was 
quite  ready  to  induce  the  rest  of  the  world  to  ignore 
it.  It  was  her  affair.  To  her  the  difference  was  made, 
over  her  life  the  hurricane  had  swept. 

"  I  have  no  kith  or  kin;  nobody  is  bound  to  me. 
The  love  of  my  friends  is  free — free  to  withhold,  free 


262  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

to  give.  I  did  it  for  myself,  open-eyed.  There  is  no- 
body who  has  a  right  to  harbor  it  against  me." 

And  she  meant  that  there  never  should  be?  It 
sounded  like  that. 

"  As  a  private  offense  against  him,  or  her,  I  mean 
— as  a  personal  offense.  Of  course  they've  a  right  to 
their  opinions — and  with  their  opinions  I  expect  I 
should  agree." 

She  would  agree  with  the  opinions,  but  did  not  feel 
bound  to  furnish  material  for  them.  She  could  hardly 
be  blamed  there.  The  candle  and  the  white  sheet — in 
open  congregation — have  fallen  into  such  general 
disuse  that  Jenny  could  not  be  asked  to  revive  them. 
So  far  she  might  be  excused — people  do  not  expect 
confessions.  But  she  seemed  to  underrate  what  she 
termed  "  opinions "  even  though,  as  opinions,  she 
thought  that  she  would  agree  with  them.  On  this 
subject  neither  Alison  nor  Mrs.  Jepps  would  talk  of 
"  opinions  ";  they  would  use  other  words.  When  she 
said  that  there  was  nobody  who  had  a  right  to  har- 
bor the  affair  against  her,  it  was  easy  to  understand 
her  meaning;  but  her  meaning  did  not  exhaust  the 
case.  Society  claims  the  right — and  has  the  power 
— to  harbor  things  against  us;  hence  the  gallows,  the 
prisons,  and  decrees  of  social  banishment.  However, 
this  sort  of  talk  was  confidential — between  her  and 
me  only.  If  society  were  disposed  to  give  her  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt,  it  would  be  very  unlike  Jenny 
not  to  make  the  thing  as  easy  as  possible  for  society. 
Often  society  has  no  objection  to  being  "  cheated  "; 
it  will  let  you  shut  its  eyes  to  what  you  have  done — 
strictly  on  condition  that  you  do  not  so  much  as  hint 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  263 

that  you  had  any  right  to  do  it.  But  it  was  doubtful 
whether  Jenny  would  find  all  Catsford  in  this  accom- 
modating temper. 

"What's  your  opinion?"  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  If  I  understand  you  rightly,  you  did  a  serious 
thing;  on  any  theory  and  to  anybody  who  thinks — 
never  mind  his  precise  views — a  very  serious  thing. 
But  you  seem  to  know  that  well  enough,  and  more 
talk  about  it  won't  mend  matters." 

"  It  was  a  wonderful  time — my  time  of  defiance — 
my  time  of  surrender.  At  least  I  tried  to  make  it  sur- 
render— and  my  greatest  surrender  was  to  consent 
not  to  go  on  defying.  While  I  defied,  I  could  surren- 
der— because  I  could  lose  sight  of  everything  in  him. 
He  was  big  enough,  Austin!  I  seemed  then  to  be  put- 
ting the  world — both  worlds,  if  you  like — quite  out 
of  sight,  annihilating  them  for  myself,  saying  I  could 
get  on  without  them  if  only  I  had  Leonard — or, 
rather,  if  only  Leonard  would — would  swallow  me 
up!  "  She  looked  at  me  with  one  of  her  straight  can- 
did glances.  "  Well,  he  had  no  objection  to  that." 
Her  lips  curved  in  a  reluctant  smile.  "  You  wouldn't 
expect  him  to  have,  would  you?  We  made  a  plan. 
We  were  to  go  to  Africa — somewhere  in  British  East 
Africa — and  live  there — away  from  everything.  Not 
because  of  fear  or  anything  of  that  sort,  you  know — 
but  because  we  felt  we  could  get  on  better  there.  I 
wanted  to  strip  myself  of  everything  that  made  me 
distinct  from  him — of  all  I  had  or  was,  apart  from 
him.  I  knew  all  the  time  that  here,  at  home,  we 
should  be  impossible  together;  you  know  I  felt  that 
because  you  watched  the  whole  thing,  Austin,  and 


264  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

must  have  known  that  only  that  feeling  could  have 
kept  me  from  him.  Well,  I  could  only  try  to  drive 
out  that  fear  of  him  by  accepting  all  it  meant — by 
being  quite  natural  about  it — by  saying,  '  I've  an  in- 
stinct that  you'll  absorb  me;  I  yield  to  it — only  make 
it  easy — give  it  the  best  chance — don't  keep  me 
where  all  sorts  of  things  compel  me  to  struggle 
against  it.  Struggling  isn't  a  possible  life;  perhaps 
surrender  is.  Let's  try.'  All  this  was  the  underlying 
thing — the  real  thing  that  was  going  on.  On  the  top 
we  were  doing  all  sorts  of  interesting  outside  things 
— he  was  a  wonderful  companion — but  this  was  what 
we  were  battling  out  all  the  time — how  to  make  it 
work — how  we  could  give  our  lives  a  chance  of  work- 
ing together.  We  both  wanted  that — and  we  both 
knew  that  it  was  horribly  difficult.  The  greatest 
thing  about  him  is  that  he  knew  my  side  of  the  dif- 
ficulty so  extraordinarily  well.  Isn't  that  rather 
rare?  " 

"  To  his  mind  you  were  a  great  woman.  He  called 
you  so  to  me.  That  accounts  for  it." 

"  How  difficult  it  all  is!  The  more  the  thing  is 
worth  while,  the  more  difficult!  Well,  we  were  to  try 
— to  be  married  and  go  to  Africa  and  try.  Leonard 
didn't  press  marriage  on  me,  but  he  admitted  that 
he'd  prefer  it — for  a  particular  reason  that  I'll  tell 
you  about  presently.  And  I  agreed;  but  neither  of 
us  made  a  great  thing  of  that.  Marriage  may  be  a 
great  thing,  but  I  can't  think  that  marrying  just  to 
mend  matters  is  anything  very  great  and  sacred,  can 
you?  And  that  was  all  ours  would  have  come  to,  of 
course.  It  would  have  been  by  way  of  apology." 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  265 

She  had  a  remorseless  mind — most  remorseless  for 
herself  and  her  motives.  Yet  a  man  might  be  a  bit 
puzzled  how  to  meet  her  reasoning. 

"  We're  getting  into  the  sphere  of  those  opinions," 
I  said.  '  We  shall  be  up  against  Alison  and  Mrs. 
Jepps  in  a  moment!  " 

"  I  know,  and  I'm  only  trying  to  tell  you  what 
happened — how  we  felt  about  the  thing.  And  then — 
we  needn't  have  troubled!  A  gay  young  gentleman,  a 
little  merry  with  wine — a  lady  in  a  cafe — a  hot-tem- 
pered man  particularly  jealous  to  exact  respect  for 
her — what  a  simple,  obvious,  silly  way  to  bring 
everything  to  dust!  " 

"  You  said  you  were  happy  at  last." 

"  Our  fight  was  done;  our  love  was  perfect.  Oh, 
but  we  managed  a  quarrel;  I  wanted  to  die,  too,  and 
that  made  him  terribly  angry."  She  laughed — and 
the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  "  Dear,  dear  Leon- 
ard— he  said  that,  if  he'd  known  I  should  talk  such 
nonsense,  he'd  have  thrown  the  Frenchman  into  the 
Loire  and  had  no  more  trouble  about  it.  So  he  died 
— his  crossness  with  me  just  over!" 

"  Well  over,  I  think,"  I  said  gently. 

"  He  gave  just  one  turn  of  his  great  great  body,  laid 
his  head  on  my  breast,  swore  at  a  fly  that  settled  on 
his  nose — oh,  Austin! — and  went  to  sleep  there 
like  a  little  child.  It  was  above  two  hours  before  I 
could  bear  to  call  anybody.  Then — they  took  him 
away." 

After  a  long  pause,  which  I  had  no  inclination  to 
break,  she  went  on:  "I  daresay  you  wonder  why  I 
came  back  here?  " 


266  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  I  thought  you'd  come  back.  Things  never  seem 
irremediable  to  you;  you  never  like  to  let  go  finally." 

"  That's  true,  I  suppose.  But  I've  a  more  spe- 
cial reason  than  that.  Leonard  left  me  a  legacy — that 
brings  me  here — but  don't  let's  talk  about  that  for 
a  minute.  Is  it  true  that  Bertram  Ware  talks  about 
selling  Oxley.  Mr.  Cartmell  said  something  about  it 
in  one  of  his  letters." 

"  He's  understood  to  be  open  to  a  good  offer,  I 
fancy." 

"  Then  we'll  make  him  one." 

"  You're  at  work  already!  " 

"  A  pretty  place  and  a  nice  little  estate — just  be- 
tween Fillingford  Manor  and  Overington!  "  Was  the 
inherited  liking  for  "  driving  wedges  "  still  in  force? 
She  had  lost  Fillingford  Manor,  but  Oxley  Lodge 
would  make  a  useful  wedge.  "  I  wonder  if  there's 
any  chance  of  that  new  man  at  Hingston  selling!  I 
don't  want  the  house,  but  those  farms  round  Hilton 
Heath  would  round  us  off  nicely." 

"  Buy  the  county  and  the  town!  Isn't  that  what 
you  want?  " 

"  I  don't  want  one  single  thing,  Austin — for  my- 
self. But  I  have  a  little  plan  in  my  head.  Well,  I  must 
do  something  with  my  life,  mustn't  I — and  with  all 
this  money?  " 

"  Build  the  Institute!" 

"I  really  think  I  shall  be  able  to  manage  that.  Mr. 
Bindlecombe's  my  friend  still?" 

"  He  has  plucked  up  courage — under  the  influence 
of  Lady  Aspenick." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Jenny,  "  I  must  try  not  to  lose 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  267 

Lady  Aspenick."  She  looked  thoughtful.  "  Yes,  I 
must  try."  She  seemed  to  anticipate  some  difficulty. 

Her  plan  of  campaign  was  indicated,  if  not  re- 
vealed. She  had  come  back;  she  was  going  to  try  to 
"  get  back."  What  had  happened  was  to  make  a  dif- 
ference only  just  where,  and  in  so  far  as,  she  herself 
decided  that  it  must.  About  that  she  had  not  been 
explicit,  but  it  was  evidently  a  great  point  with  her — 
a  thing  which  profoundly  affected  her  inner  life.  But 
her  outer  life  was  not  to  be  affected — her  external 
position  was  not  in  the  end  to  suffer.  And  this  ambi- 
tion, this  plan,  was  somehow  connected  with  her 
"  legacy  "  from  Leonard  Octon. 

Suddenly  she  spoke  again.  "  When  a  mask  is  on, 
you  can't  see  the  face.  I  shall  wear  a  mask — don't 
judge  my  face  by  it.  I've  taken  it  off  for  you  to-day. 
I  have  given  you  the  means  of  judging.  But  I  shall 
wear  it  day  by  day — against  everybody;  even  against 
you  generally,  I  expect,  though  I  may  sometimes  lift 
a  corner  up  for  you." 

What  had  I  seen  while  the  mask  was  off?  A  woman 
profoundly  humiliated  in  herself  but  resolute  not  to 
accept  outward  humiliation?  It  was  hardly  that, 
though  that  had  an  element  of  applicability  in  it.  A 
woman  ready — even  determined — to  pay  a  great  pen- 
alty for  what  she  had  done,  but  resolved  to  evade  or 
to  defy  the  obvious  and  usual  penalties?  There  was 
truth  in  that,  too.  But  more  remained.  It  seemed  as 
though,  with  the  hurricane  of  which  she  spoke,  there 
had  come  an  earthquake.  It  had  left  her  alive,  and 
in  touch  with  life;  life  was  not  done.  But  it  was  dif- 
ferent— forever  and  irrevocably  different.  Her  rela- 


268  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

tions  to  life  had  all  been  shifted.  That  was  the  great 
penalty  she  accepted — and  she  was  prepared  to  ac- 
cept its  executions,  its  working-out,  seeing  in  that, 
apparently,  the  logically  proper,  the  inevitable  out- 
come of  her  act.  The  obvious  penalties  were  not  to 
her  mind  inevitable;  she  would  admit  that  they  were 
conventionally  proper — but  that  admission  left  her 
free  to  avoid  them  if  she  could.  The  outward  punish- 
ment she  would  dodge;  before  the  inward  she  would 
bow  her  head.  And  the  sphere  of  the  penalty  must 
be  the  same  as  the  sphere  of  the  offense.  Her  intel- 
lect had  not  offended,  and  that  was  left  free  to  work, 
to  expatiate,  to  enjoy.  On  her  heart  fell  the  blows, 
as  from  her  heart  had  come  the  crime.  There  it  was 
that  the  shifting  of  relations,  the  change  of  position, 
the  transformation  of  feelings,  had  their  place. 

An  intelligible  attitude — but  a  proud,  indeed  a 
very  arrogant,  one.  Only  Jenny  should  punish  Jenny 
— that  was  pretty  well  what  it  said.  She  herself  had 
decreed  her  penalty.  It  might  be  adequate — perhaps 
she  alone  could  know  the  truth  of  that — but  it  was 
open  to  the  objection  that  it  was  quite  unauthorized. 
Neither  in  what  it  included  nor  in  what  it  excluded 
did  it  conform  to  any  code  of  religious  or  social  ob- 
ligation. It  was  Jenny's  sentence  on  Jenny — and 
Jenny  proposed  to  carry  it  out.  Centralization  of 
power  seemed  to  shake  hands  with  anarchy. 

Jenny's  mood  grew  lighter  on  her  last  words. 
"  To-night  we'll  send  a  paragraph  to  the  Catsford 
paper  to  announce  my  return,"  she  said,  smiling. 
"  I'm  not  skulking  back!  " 

"  It  will  occasion  interest  and  surprise." 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  269 

"  It's  not  the  only  surprise  I've  got  for  them," 
laughed  Jenny.  Then,  suddenly,  she  held  up  her  hand 
for  silence.  From  the  terrace  outside  the  window  I 
heard  a  merry  sweet-toned  laugh.  Jenny  rose  and 
went  to  the  window,  and  I  followed  her. 

Old  Chat  was  on  the  terrace,  and  beside  her  stood 
a  girl,  not  tall,  very  slender.  Her  arm  was  through 
Chat's,  her  back  toward  us,  her  face  in  profile  as  she 
turned  to  talk — and  she  was  talking  briskly  and  in 
excited  interest — to  her  companion.  The  profile  was 
small,  regular,  refined;  I  could  not  see  the  eyes;  the 
hair  was  a  golden  brown,  very  plentiful. 

"  Who's  that  pretty  girl?  "  I  cried. 

Jenny  copied  the  attitude  of  the  pair  on  the  ter- 
race; she  put  her  arm  through  mine  and  said  with 
a  laugh,  "  She  is  pretty,  then?  "  The  laugh  sounded 
triumphant.  "  Why,  as  pretty  a  little  thing  as  a  man 
could  find  in  a  lifetime!"  I  cried  in  honest  enthu- 
siasm.* 

"  Oh,  come,  you're  not  such  a  hopeless  old  bache- 
lor after  all,"  said  Jenny.  "  Not  that  I  in  the  least 
want  you  to  fall  in  love  with  her — not  you,  Austin." 

"  I  think  I  am— half !  " 

"  Keep  just  the  other  half  for  me.  Half's  as  much 
as  I  want,  you  know."  Her  voice  sounded  sad  again, 
yet  whimsically  sad.  "  But  I  do  want  that  from  you, 
I  think."  She  pressed  my  arm;  then,  waiting  for  no 
answer,  she  went  on  gayly,  "  I  think  I  shall  surprise 
Catsford  with  that!" 

"  She's  going  to  pay  you  a  visit?  "  I  asked. 

"  She's  going  to  live  here,"  Jenny  answered. 
"  That's  my  legacy,  Austin." 


27o  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

I  smote  my  free  arm  against  my  thigh.  "  By  Heav- 
en, the  girl  on  the  mantelpiece  at  Hatcham  Ford!" 
I  cried. 

At  the  moment  the  girl  on  the  terrace  turned 
round,  saw  us,  and  waved  her  hand  merrily  to  Jenny. 
Certainly  the  prettiest  little  creature  you  ever  saw — 
in  the  small,  dainty,  delicate,  roguishly  appealing 
way:  and  most  indubitably  the  original  of  that  pic- 
ture which  I  had  seen  at  Hatcham  Ford,  which  van- 
ished on  the  night  when  Octon  went  forth  alone — 
little  thinking  that  Jenny  would  follow  him. 

I  turned  from  her  to  Jenny  in  astonishment.  "  But 
I'd  made  up  my  mind  that  it  was  his  wife." 

"  I'm  glad  he  told  you  he  was  married.  He  told  you 
the  dreadful  thing  about  it,  too,  didn't  he?  It  wasn't 
a  thing  one  could  talk  about — he'd  never  have  al- 
lowed that  for  a  minute — but  I  wish  everybody  could 
have  known.  It  seems  a  sort  of  excuse  for  what  they 
all  quarreled  with  in  him.  He'd  been  made  to  feel  the 
world  his  enemy  when  he  was  young;  that  must  tell 
on  a  man,  mustn't  it?  " 

"  This  is  a  daughter?  He  never  said  anything 
about  a  daughter." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  didn't  happen  to  get  on  that 
— and  you  didn't  ask.  A  woman  would  have  asked, 
of  course,  whether  there  were  any  children — and 
how  old  they  were,  and  what  was  the  color  of  their 
hair." 

"  Upon  my  soul,  it  never  occurred  to  me!  " 

"  It  wouldn't,"  she  remarked,  smiling.  "  But  this  is 
Margaret." 

"  Where's  she  been  all  the  while?  " 


ONE    OF    TWO    LEGACIES  271 

"  Oh,  only  at  school — there's  no  mystery.  He  was 
only  at  Hatcham  Ford  four  years — just  her  school 
years.  He  didn't  bring  her  there  in  the  holidays,  be- 
cause that  would  have  meant  a  chaperon  —  he 
couldn't  have  looked  after  a  girl — and  he  hated  the 
idea  of  that.  And  I  think  he  was  afraid,  too,  that  the 
people  wouldn't  be  nice  to  her.  He  was  very  sensi- 
tive for  her,  though  he  wasn't  at  all  for  himself."  She 
paused  a  moment.  "  Does  that  explain  anything  else 
I've  said?" 

I  thought,  for  a  moment,  over  our  talk.  "  About 
the  marriage?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jenny.  "  It  didn't  seem  fair  to  her 
without  that.  That  weighed  with  him  more  than  any- 
thing else — and  with  me,  too,  a  good  deal.  I  don't 
think  I  need  be  ashamed  of  that." 

"  Certainly  you  needn't  —  quite  the  contrary  in 
fact." 

"  We  should  have  wanted  her  to  be  with  us — to 
pay  us  visits  anyhow — at  least  until  she  married.  Yes, 
it  wouldn't  have  been  just."  She  frowned  impatiently; 
still  more  than  anything  else,  Margaret  Octon 
seemed  to  bring  home  to  her  the  difficult  side — the 
side  most  hard  to  defend — of  what  she  had  done  and 
contemplated.  She  passed  away  from  it  without  more 
words. 

"  When  he  was  dying  he  gave  her  to  me.  That  put 
an  end  to  the  quarrel  I  told  you  about.  It  gave  me 
back  some  of  him  and  gave  me  something  to  live  for. 
'  I  know  you'll  do  the  handsome  thing  by  her,  Jenny,' 
he  said.  I  mean  to  try,  Austin." 

"  I'm  sure  you  do,  but  " — I  could  not  help  blurt- 


272  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

ing  it  out — "  won't  her  being  here  make  matters 
worse?  " 

"  Worse  or  better,  better  or  worse,  here  she's  go- 
ing to  be,"  said  Jenny.  "  She's  been  with  me  nearly  a 
year  already.  She's  one  of  the  two  things  he's  left 
behind  him — to  stay  with  me." 

I  did  not  ask  what  the  other  thing  was. 

"  Is  she  to  bear  his  name?  " 

"  Of  course  she  is.  She's  my  friend  and  ward — and 
Leonard  Octon's  daughter." 

"  Rather  a  pill  for  Catsford!  Dear  me,  what  a 
pretty  little  thing  it  is!  " 

"  I'm  very  glad  she's  like  that.  It  makes  so  much 
more  possible.  This  is  a  good  gift  that  Leonard  has 
left  me.  She's  my-  joy — you  must  be  my  consolation. 
I  can't  give  you  anything  in  return,  but  there's  some- 
thing I  can  give  her — and  I'll  give  it  full  measure, 
for  Leonard's  sake."  She  laughed,  rather  reluctantly, 
squeezing  my  arm  again.  "  Oh,  yes,  and  I'm  afraid 
a  little  bit  because  Jenny  Driver  still  likes  her  own 
way!  And,  above  all,  her  own  way  with  Catsford! 
Shall  we  see  if  she  can  get  it?  " 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

THE    NEW    CAMPAIGN 

JENNY  had  come  back  with  her  courage  un- 
broken— and  with  her  ambitions  unappeased, 
though  it  seemed  that  their  direction  had  been 
in  some  measure  changed.  Somehow  Margaret  Oc- 
ton  was  now  one  of  their  principal  objects.  It  was  not 
possible  just  now  to  see  further  into  her  mind,  even 
at  a  tolerably  close  view — a  much  closer  one  than 
her  neighbors  were  permitted  to  enjoy.  It  was  even 
an  appreciable  time  before  Catsford  heard  of  Mar- 
garet Octon  at  all.  The  presence  of  the  girl  was  not 
obtruded,  much  less  her  name;  nothing  was  said  of 
her  in  the  paragraph  that  went  to  the  paper.  Jenny 
left  Catsford  to  digest  the  fact  of  her  own  return 
first. 

It  was  enough  to  occupy  the  neighborhood's  di- 
gestive faculties  for  many  days.  It  raised  such  various 
questions,  on  which  different  minds  settled  with 
differing  degrees  of  avidity.  Questions  of  morality, 
of  propriety,  of  conventionality  on  the  one  hand — 
questions  of  charity,  of  policy,  of  self-interest  on  the 
other.  There  were  the  party  of  principle  and  the 
party  of  expediency,  cutting  across  the  lines  of  the 
party  of  propriety  and  the  party  of  charity.  Some 

373 


274  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

quoted  Caesar's  wife — when  do  they  not?  Others 
maintained  that  an  Englishman  was  innocent  till  he 
was  proved  guilty — and  a  fortiori  a  handsome,  at- 
tractive, interesting,  and  remarkably  rich  English- 
woman. It  was  contended  by  one  faction  that  a  self- 
banishment  of  nearly  three  years  was  apology 
enough — if  apology  were  needed;  by  the  other  that 
Jenny  had  insolently  spurned  any  effort  to  "  put  her- 
self right  "  with  public  opinion.  To  add  to  the  com- 
plication, people  shifted  their  attitudes  from  day  to 
day — either  under  influence,  as  when  they  had  been 
talked  to  by  Mrs.  Jepps  or  by  Mr.  Bindlecombe  as 
the  case  might  be,  or  from  the  sheer  pleasure  of 
discussing  the  matter  over  again  from  another  point 
of  view,  and  drawing  out  their  neighbors  by  advocat- 
ing what,  twenty-four  hours  earlier,  they  had  con- 
demned. 

The  climax  came  when  the  news  of  Margaret 
leaked  out,  as  it  was  bound  soon  to  do,  if  only 
through  the  mouths  of  the  servants  at  the  Priory. 
There  was  a  pretty  girl  there,  a  girl  of  seventeen — 
whose  name  was  Octon — daughter,  it  was  under- 
stood, of  the  late  Mr.  Leonard  Octon  of  Hatcham 
Ford;  she  was  living  with  Miss  Driver,  as  her  friend 
or  her  ward — at  any  rate,  apparently,  as  a  fixture. 
Some  found  a  likeness  between  Margaret's  sudden 
appearance  and  Jenny's  own,  and  this  element  added 
a  piquancy  to  the  situation,  even  though  the  similar- 
ity was  rather  superficial  than  essential.  Old  Nicho- 
las Driver  had  every  reason  to  produce  his  daughter 
and  invest  her  formally  with  the  position  of  heir- 
apparent  to  his  great  possessions,  to  his  over-lord- 


THE    NEW    CAMPAIGN  275 

ship  of  the  town.  Octon  had  been  merely  the  tem- 
porary tenant  of  a  hired  house — a  mere  bird  of 
passage — and  a  solitary  bird  besides,  neither  giving 
nor  receiving  confidences.  Why  should  he  have 
talked  about  his  dead  wife  and  his  young  daughter 
to  ears  that  cared  not  a  straw  about  either  of  them? 
The  coincidence  was  noted,  but  it  was  soon  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  new  issue  as  to  Jenny's  conduct 
which  the  appearance  of  Margaret  raised.  Bluntly — 
for  which  party  was  this  a  score?  Jenny's  opponents 
saw  in  it  a  new  defiance — a  willful  flaunting  of  of- 
fense; her  friends  found  in  it  a  romantic  flavor  which 
pleaded  for  her. 

On  the  whole,  so  far  as  could  be  judged  from  Bin- 
dlecombe's  accounts — he  was  my  constant  reporter 
— Jenny's  adherents  gained  ground  in  the  town — 
partly  from  her  personal  popularity,  partly  from  the 
old  power  of  her  family,  in  part,  perhaps  (if  one  may 
venture  to  say  so  from  the  safe  obscurity  of  a  pri- 
vate station),  because  our  lords  the  masses  are  not 
in  a  matter  of  this  sort  very  unforgiving — in  which 
they  touch  hands  with  the  opposite  end  of  society. 
Self-interest  probably  aided — Catsford  had  of  late 
basked  in  the  somewhat  wintry  favor  of  Fillingford 
Manor;  the  beams  were  chilly;  Breysgate  would  emit 
a  kinder  glow.  It  "  paid  "  so  many  people  in  the 
town  to  have  Jenny  back!  The  feeling  in  the  county 
was  preponderatingly  against  her.  There  Fillingford 
Manor  was  a  greater  power;  its  attitude  was  definite, 
resolute,  not  to  be  misunderstood.  Outside  the  town 
Jenny  could  look  at  present  for  little  support.  Old 
Mr.    Dormer   with    his    pliant    standards    was   dead. 


276  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

There  were  only  the  Aspenicks — Lady  Aspenick 
must  be  civil — owing  to  what  she  had  done  about 
the  road;  but  her  influence,  even  if  cordially  exer- 
cised, would  not  be  enough. 

Following  the  example  of  great  commanders, 
Jenny  massed  her  forces  on  the  most  favorable  point. 
She  flung  herself  on  the  workingmen  of  Catsford. 
Hesitating,  probably,  to  expose  Margaret  to  the 
chances  of  the  campaign,  she  left  her  at  home,  but 
she  requisitioned  Cartmell  and  myself,  and  we  drove 
down  in  full  state  into  Catsford  at  noon  on  the  fourth 
day  after  her  return.  Our  ostensible  purpose  was  to 
go  to  Cartmell's  office,  to  transact  some  legal  busi- 
ness; as  he  could  easily  have  brought  his  papers  up 
to  the  Priory,  this  did  not  seem  very  convincing.  Our 
way  took  us  past  the  great  Driver  works — con- 
ducted now  by  a  limited  company,  in  which  Jenny 
held  a  controlling  interest.  In  front  of  the  big  build- 
ing was  a  large  open  space,  still  known  as  "  The 
Green  "  though  constant  traffic  of  feet  had  worn 
away  all  trace  of  grass.  Here  was  the  forum  of  Cats- 
ford, where  men  assembled  for  open-air  meetings 
and,  less  formally,  for  discussion,  gossip  —  even,  it 
was  said,  for  betting — in  their  spare  moments,  and 
especially  in  the  dinner-hour.  It  happened  to  be 
the  dinner-hour  now — as  Jenny  observed  innocently 
when  we  found  the  place  full  of  Driver  employees 
who  had  swallowed  their  meal  and  were  talking  to- 
gether or  lounging  about,  their  pipes  in  their  mouths. 
Cartmell  gave  a  grim  chuckle  at  Jenny's  artless  sur- 
prise. He  had  taken  her  return  very  quietly,  loyally 
accepting  his  position  as  her  man  of  business,  but 


THE    NEW    CAMPAIGN  277 

hardly  welcoming  her  with  real  cordiality.  I  fancy 
that  he  found  it  hard  to  forgive;  was  not  Fillingford 
Manor  gone  forever? 

We  had  not  progressed  many  yards  before  she  was 
recognized.  She  courted  recognition,  stopping  to 
speak  to  an  old  artisan  who  had  once  been  intro- 
duced to  her  as  a  contemporary  of  her  father's.  Men 
gathered  round  her  as  she  sat  chatting  with  the  vet- 
eran. She  seemed  unconscious  of  being  gradually 
surrounded.  At  last,  with  a  most  gracious  good-by, 
she  said,  "  Now  drive  on,  please,"  then  looked  sud- 
denly round,  saw  all  the  folk,  and  bowed  and  smiled. 
One  fellow  started,  "  Three  cheers  for  Miss  Driver! ': 
That  set  the  thing  going.  They  gave  her  cheer  on 
cheer.  Jenny  sat  through  it  smiling,  flushed,  just  once 
glancing  across  to  me  with  a  covert  triumph.  The 
cheers  brought  more  men  running  up;  there  were 
two  or  three  hundred  round  us.  "  Welcome  home! ' 
they  cried.  "Welcome  home!"  Then  somebody 
called,  "  Speech,  speech!  "  The  cry  was  taken  up 
with  hilarious  enthusiasm,  and  the  crowd  grew  every 
minute. 

Suddenly  on  the  outskirts  of  the  throng  I  saw  a 
man  on  horseback.  He  had  stopped  his  horse  and 
was  looking  on.  There  was  no  mistaking  Lacey's 
handsome  face  and  trim  figure. 

Jenny  rose  to  her  feet  and  held  up  her  hand  for 
silence.  She  spoke  her  few  words  in  a  ringing  voice. 
"  My  friends  and  neighbors,  thank  you  for  your  wel- 
come home.  I  am  glad  from  my  heart  to  be  in  Cats- 
ford  again.  That's  where  Nicholas  Driver's  daugh- 
ter ought  to  be.  So  I've  come  back."  She  kissed  her 


278  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

hand  to  them  two  or  three  times,  standing  there  in 
the  carriage.  Then  I  saw  that  she  caught  sight  of 
Lacey.  The  flush  on  her  cheeks  deepened.  For  a  sec- 
ond she  stood,  looking  at  him  her  lips  just  parted 
in  a  smile;  but  she  did  not  incline  her  head.  He  lifted 
his  hat  and  bowed  low  from  his  saddle.  Then  she 
gave  him  her  most  radiant  recognition — and  sank 
down  on  the  cushions  of  the  carriage  with  a  sigh. 

Jenny  could  not  have  reckoned  on  that  encounter 
— though  it  seemed  all  to  the  good.  We  were  to  have 
another,  on  which  she  had  not  counted  either  when 
she  chose  so  cleverly  the  scene  of  her  public  reap- 
pearance. When  at  last  they  made  a  lane  for  our 
horses  to  pass,  some  taking  leave  of  us  with  fresh 
cheers,  others  escorting  us  on  either  side,  with  jokes 
and  horseplay  among  themselves,  we  met  a  little 
procession.  It  was  Alison's  custom  to  hold  a  short 
out-of-door  service  three  times  a  week  during  the 
men's  dinner-hour;  the  Green  was  his  chosen  pulpit, 
as  it  had  been  Jenny's  chosen  scene.  He  came  toward 
us  now  in  all  his  ecclesiastical  panoply,  attended  by 
two  or  three  of  his  (if  Mrs.  Jepps  will  allow  me  the 
term)  assistant  priests  and  by  a  band  of  choir  boys, 
all  in  their  robes.  Jenny  caught  sight  of  the  proces- 
sion and  leaned  forward  eagerly.  I  looked  back. 
Lacey  was  still  there;  a  man  was  by  his  horse,  talk- 
ing to  him  no  doubt,  but  his  eyes  were  following  our 
progress. 

I  do  not  happen  to  know  whether  it  be  etiquette 
to  offer  or  return  the  ordinary  signs  of  recognition 
when  one  forms  part  of  a  procession,  either  secular 
or   ecclesiastical.    In   the  case   of  the   latter,   at  all 


THE    NEW    CAMPAIGN  279 

events,  probably  it  is  not.  This  perhaps  got  Alison 
out  of  a  difficulty — while  it  left  Jenny  in  a  doubt. 
But  I  think  that  it  must  be  permissible  to  look  rather 
more  benevolent,  rather  less  sternly  aloof,  than  Ali- 
son's face  was  as  she  passed,  escorted  by  her  jesting" 
adherents.  To  say  that  he  took  no  more  notice  of  us 
or  of  them  than  if  we  had  not  been  there  is  inade- 
quate. His  ignoring  of  us  achieved  a  positive  quality. 
He  passed  by  with  his  eyes  purposely,  aggressively, 
indifferent.  The  boys  and  men  looked  after  him  and 
his  procession,  and  nudged  one  another  with  smiles. 

Jenny's  face  told  nothing  of  her  view  of  this  little 
incident.  She  was  still  smiling  when  we  quickened  up 
and,  with  final  hand-wavings,  shook  ourselves  clear 
of  our  adherents.  At  Cartmell's  office  her  head  was 
as  clear  and  her  manner  as  composed  as  possible. 
The  business  that  brought  us  having  been  trans- 
acted, she  opened  fire  on  Cartmell  about  Oxley 
Lodge,  and  the  outlying  farms  of  Hingston.  Verily 
she  was  losing  no  time  in  her  campaign! 

Cartmell  was  obviously  amused  at  her.  "  That's 
making  up  for  lost  time  with  a  vengeance,  Miss 
Jenny!  Hingston  and  Oxley  all  at  once!"  As  soon 
as  they  got  on  to  business — got  to  work  again — his 
old  pride  and  pleasure  in  her  began  to  revive. 

'  Only  a  bit  of  Hingston!  "  Jenny  pleaded  with  a 
smile. 

"  There's  plenty  of  money,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 
"  In  spite  of  keeping  things  going  here  as  you  or- 
dered— much  too  lavishly  done  it  was,  too,  in  my 
opinion — it's  been  piling  up  since  you've  been  away. 
If  they're  willing  to  sell — I  hear  on  good  authority 


28o  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

that  Bertram  Ware  is  if  he  can  get  his  price — the 
money's  not  the  difficulty.  But  what's  the  good?  " 

"The  good?"  asked  Jenny. 

"  Surely  you've  got  plenty?  What's  the  good  of  a 
lot  more?  Isn't  it  only  a  burden  on  you?  " 

She  answered  him  not  with  her  old  impatience,  but 
with  all  her  resoluteness — her  old  certainty  that  she 
knew  what  she  wanted,  and  why  she  wanted  it — and 
that  it  was  quite  immaterial  whether  anyone  else  did. 

"  You  look  after  the  money,  Mr.  Cartmell;  you 
can  leave  the  good  to  me — and  the  burden!  " 

"Yes,  yes,  you  and  your  father!"  he  grumbled. 
"No  good  advising — not  the  least!  'Slave-Driver' 
I  used  to  call  him  over  our  port  after  dinner  some- 
times. You're  just  the  same,  Miss  Jenny." 

"  All  that  just  because  I  want  to  buy  a  pretty 
house!  "  said  Jenny,  appealing  deprecatingly  to  me. 

She  would  not  go  away  without  his  promise  to 
press  both  matters  on.  Having  extracted  this,  she 
went  home — and  ended  her  first  day's  campaign  by 
issuing  an  ukase  that  all  the  Driver  workmen  should, 
at  an  early  date,  have  a  day's  holiday  on  full  wages, 
with  a  great  feast  for  them,  their  wives,  children,  and 
sweethearts  in  the  grounds  of  Breysgate — wages  and 
feast  alike  to  be  provided  out  of  the  privy  purse  of 
Miss  Driver.  Catsford  was  behaving  well  and  was  to 
be  petted!  Jenny  did  not  mention  whether  she  in- 
tended to  invite  its  chief  spiritual  director. 

I  dined  at  the  Priory  that  night — a  night,  on  the 
whole,  of  distinct  triumph — and  made  acquaintance 
with  Margaret  Octon.  Strange  daughter  of  such  a 
father!  Mrs.  Octon  must — one  was  inclined  to  specu- 


THE    NEW    CAMPAIGN  281 

late — nave  been  marvelously  different  from  her  hus- 
band— and  from  Jenny  Driver.  Imagination  began  to 
picture  something  ineffably  timid,  shrinking,  gentle 
— something  which,  blending  with  Octon's  strong 
rough  strain,  would  issue  in  this  child.  She  seemed  all 
things  in  turn — except  self-confident.  Evidently  she 
was  devoted  to  Jenny;  perpetually  she  referred  all 
she  did  to  Jenny's  approval — but  that  "  all  "  included 
many  varieties.  Now  she  would  be  demure,  now  ven- 
turesome, now  childishly  merry,  now  assuming  a  pre- 
mature sedateness.  She  played  tricks  with  Jenny,  her 
brown  eyes  always  asking  whether  she  might  play 
them;  she  enjoyed  herself  immensely — by  Jenny's 
kind  permission.  This  constant  reference  and  this 
constant  appeal  found  no  warrant  in  anything  in 
Jenny's  manner;  the  child  was  evidently  a  privileged 
pet  and  could  do  just  as  she  pleased — Jenny  delighted 
in  her.  It  was  then  in  the  girl's  nature  itself.  She  was 
grace  and  charm — without  strength.  It  would  be  very 
appealing,  if  one  were  the  person  appealed  to;  it 
would  be  most  attractive,  most  tempting,  when  sec- 
onded by  her  frail  fairy-like  beauty.  For  it  was  a 
joy  to  look  at  her;  and  if  she  looked  at  you,  asking 
leave  to  be  happy,  what  could  you  say  but — "  By  all 
means — and  pray  let  me  do  all  I  can  to  help!  " 

Jenny  seemed  to  watch  her  gayeties  and  her  de- 
mureness,  her  ventures  and  retreats,  with  delight  in- 
deed, but  also  with  a  more  subtle  feeling.  She  not 
only  enjoyed;  she  studied  and  pondered.  She  gave 
the  impression  of  wanting  to  know  what  would  be 
thought  by  others.  This  with  Jenny  was  unusual;  but 
her  manner  did  unmistakably  ask  me  my  opinion 


282  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

several  times,  and  when,  after  dinner,  Margaret  had 
waltzed  Chat  out  of  the  room  for  a  stroll  in  the  gar- 
den, she  asked  it  plainly. 

"  Isn't  she  just  as  charming  as  she  looks?  " 

"  She  worships  you,"  I  remarked. 

"  That's  nothing — natural  just  at  first,  while  she's 
so  young.  But  don't  you  find  her  charming?  "  Jenny 
persisted. 

"  I  don't  know  about  women — but  if  that  form  of 
flattery  were  brought  to  bear  on  any  man,  I  don't  see 
how  he  could  possibly  resist." 

"  It's  quite  natural;  it's  not  put  on  in  the  least." 

"  I'm  sure  of  it.  That's  what  would  make  it  so 
dangerous.  To  have  that  beautiful  little  creature 
treating  one  as  a  god — who  could  refuse  the  incense, 
or  not  become  devoted  to  the  worshiper?  ': 

Jenny  nodded.  "  You  understand  it,  I  see.  Men 
would  feel  that  way,  would  they?  " 

"  Rather!  "  I  answered,  with  a  laugh.  Jenny  was 
leaning  her  head  on  her  elbow,  and  looked  across 
the  table  at  me  with  a  satisfied  mocking  smile.  I 
could  see  that  I  had  given  an  answer  that  pleased  her 
— but  she  was  not  minded  to  tell  me  why  she  was 
pleased. 

Half  chaffing  her,  half  really  wondering  what  she 
would  be  at,  I  asked,  "  Do  you  want  Oxley  Lodge 
for  Margaret?  " 

"  For  her?  "  exclaimed  Jenny,  smiling  still.  "  Why? 
Isn't  this  house  big  enough  for  the  mite?  " 

"  Suppose  you  both  marry — or  either?  You're 
both  eminently  marriageable  young  women." 

"  Are  we?  Eminently  marriageable?  Well,  I  sup- 


THE    NEW    CAMPAIGN  283 

pose  so."  She  laughed.  "  Even  if  one  doesn't  marry, 
it's  something  to  be  marriageable,  isn't  it?  ' 

"  A  most  valuable  asset,"  said  I.  "  Then  you'd 
want  two  houses." 

"  I  suppose  we  should.  But  how  far  you  look 
ahead,  Austin!  " 

"  If  that  isn't  Satan  reproving  sin — !  "  I  cried. 

"  What  do  you  suspect  me  of  now?  "  she  asked, 
still  mocking,  but  genuinely  curious,  I  think,  to 
fathom  my  thoughts. 

"  No,  no!  You'll  be  off  on  another  tack  if  you 
think  you've  been  sighted." 

She  laughed  as  she  rose  from  the  table.  "  Oh,  come 
out  and  walk!  At  any  rate,  my  getting  Oxley  would 
annoy  Lady  Sarah,  wouldn't  it?  " 

"You  can  annoy  her  cheaper  than  that!" 

"  There's  plenty  of  money,  Mr.  Cartmell  says,"  she 
answered,  smiling  over  her  shoulder  as  she  led  the 
way. 

I  had  a  talk  with  Margaret,  too,  a  little  later  on. 
Jenny  sent  us  for  a  moonlight  stroll  together.  Young 
as  the  child  was,  she  was  good  company,  independ- 
ently of  her  place  in  Jenny's  mind,  which  for  me  gave 
her  an  adventitious  interest.  But  what  a  contrast  to 
Jenny,  no  less  than  to  Octon — and  perhaps  a  more 
profound  one!  The  fine  new  surroundings,  the  en- 
larged horizon  which  Jenny's  friendship  opened  to 
her,  were  still  a  delightful  bewilderment;  she  enjoyed 
actively,  but  she  accepted  passively;  she  applauded 
the  entertainment,  but  never  thought  of  arranging 
the  bill  of  the  play.  Jenny  could  not  have  been  like 
that — even  at  seventeen;  she  would  have  itched  to 


284  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

write  some  lines  in  the  book,  to  have  a  word  to  say 
to  the  scenes.  Margaret's  simplicity  of  grateful  re- 
sponsiveness was  untouched  by  any  calculation. 

"It's  all  just  so  wonderful!"  she  said  to  me,  her 
arms  waving  over  the  park,  her  brown  eyes  wide 
with  surprised  admiration. 

She  came  to  it  only  on  an  invitation.  Jenny  had 
come  as  owner.  But  Jenny  had  not  been  overwhelmed 
like  this.  Jenny  had  kept  cool,  had  taken  it  all  in — 
and  been  interested  to  survey,  from  Tor  Hill,  the 
next  estate! 

"  To  happen  to  me — suddenly!  Ah,  but  I  wish 
father  had  lived.  If  he  could  have  lived  to  marry 
Jenny!  They  were  engaged  when  he — was  killed,  you 
know." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  know.  But  don't  be  sad  to- 
night. Things  smell  sweet,  and  there's  a  moon  in  the 
sky." 

She  laughed — merry  in  an  instant.  "  Jenny  says 
we're  going  to  do  such  things!  As  soon  as  she's  set- 
tled down  again,  you  know."  She  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  Did  she  love  my  father  very  much?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  did,"  I  answered,  "  and  I  think 
she  loves  you." 

"  To  me  she's  just — everything."  Her  eyes  grew 
mirthful  and  adventurous;  she  gave  a  little  laugh  as 
she  added,  "  And  she  says  she'll  find  me  a  fairy 
prince!  "  At  once  she  was  looking  to  see  how  I  liked 
this,  not  with  the  anxiety  which  awaited  Jenny's  ap- 
proval, but  none  the  less  with  an  evident  desire  for 

mine. 

"  That's  only  right,"  I  answered,  laughing.  "  But 


THE    NEW    CAMPAIGN  285 

she  needn't  hurry,  need  she?  You'll  be  happy  here 
for  a  bit  longer?  " 

"  Happy  here?  I  should  think  so!  "  she  cried.  "  Ah, 
there's  Jenny  looking  for  me!  "  In  an  instant  she  was 
gone;  the  next  her  arm  was  through  Jenny's,  and  she 
was  talking  merrily. 

I  became  aware  of  Chat's  presence.  She  came 
toward  me  in  her  faded,  far  from  sumptuous,  gentil- 
ity. She  had  a  little  gush  for  me.  "  So  happy  it  all 
seems  again,  Mr.  Austin!"  she  said. 

"  We  seem  to  be  starting  again  very  well  indeed," 
I  assented. 

"  Dear  Jenny  has  behaved  so  splendidly  all 
through,"  Chat  proceeded.  "  How  did  they  dare  to 
be  so  malicious  about  her?  But  I've  known  her  from 
a  girl.  I  always  trusted  her.  Why,  I  may  say  I  did 
a  good  deal  to  form  her!  " 

A  vivid — and  highly  inopportune — picture  came 
back  into  my  mind,  a  picture  dating  from  the  night 
of  Jenny's  flight — of  Chat  rocking  her  helpless  old 
body  to  and  fro,  and  saying  through  her  sobs,  '  I 
tried,  I  tried,  I  tried!"  What  had  Chat  meant  that 
she  tried  to  do?  To  keep  Jenny  out  of  mischief? 
Hardly  that.  To  save  her  from  the  danger  of  it  had 
been  the  object.  As  for  forming  her — Chat  had  made 
other  confessions  about  that. 

However — as  things  stood — Chat  had  always 
trusted  Jenny.  It  was  impossible  to  say  how  far — at 
this  moment — Jenny  had  trusted  Chat.  Not  very  far, 
I  think.  Jenny  probably  had  said  nothing  which  could 
make  it  harder  for  Chat  to  say  what  she  would  want 
to  say;  both   reticence  and   revelation   would  have 


286  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

been  bent  to  that  object — and  Jenny  was  an  artist 
in  the  use  of  each  of  these  expedients.  Doubtless 
Chat  had  been  given  her  cue.  Nevertheless,  there 
was  something  unusual  in  her  air — something  very- 
friendly,  confidential,  yet  rather  furtive,  as  she  drew 
a  little  closer  to  me. 

"  But  the  dear  girl  is  so  impulsive,"  she  said.  "  Of 
course,  it's  delightful,  but — "  She  pursed  her  lips  and 
gave  me  a  significant  look.  "  This  child!  "  said  Chat. 

"  Oh,  you  mean  Margaret  Octon?  Seems  a  very 
nice  girl,  Miss  Chatters." 

"  Jenny's  heart's  so  good — but  what  a  handicap!  ' 

Chat  was  of  that  view,  then,  concerning  the  com- 
ing of  Margaret.  Well,  it  was  not  uncommon. 

"  We  shall  never  get  back  to  our  old  terms  with 
Fillingford  Manor  as  long  as  she's  here,"  said  Chat. 

"  Were  you  so  much  attached  to  Fillingford 
Manor?  "  I  ventured  to  ask. 

"  That  would  end  all  the  talk,"  she  insisted  with 
an  agitated  urgency.  "  If  only  Lord  Fillingford  would 
overlook — "  She  stopped  in  a  sudden  fright.  "  Don't 
say  I  said  that!  " 

"  Why,  of  course  not,"  I  answered,  smiling.  "  Any- 
thing you  want  said  you  can  say  yourself.  It's  not 
my  business." 

"  One  can  always  rely  on  you,  Mr.  Austin.  But 
wouldn't  that  be  perfect — after  it  all,  you  know?  " 

It  certainly  would  be  picking  up  the  pieces — after 
a  smash  into  utter  fragments!  But  it  is  always  pleas- 
ant to  see  people  contemplating  what  they  regard  as 
perfection;  and  no  very  clear  duty  lies  on  a  private 
individual  to  disturb  their  vision.  I  told  Chat  that 


THE    NEW    CAMPAIGN  287 

the  idea  was  no  doubt  worth  thinking  over,  and  so, 
in  amity,  we  parted. 

That  was  Chat's  idea.  Octon  was  gone  with  his 
fascination — not  nnfelt  by  Chat.  Now  it  would  be 
perfection  if  Lord  Fillingford  would  overlook!  But 
with  that  goal  in  view  Margaret  Octon  was  a  heavy 
handicap.  Undoubtedly — so  heavy,  so  fatal,  that  the 
goal  could  hardly  be  Jenny's.  Chat,  who  had  done 
so  much  to  form  Jenny,  might  have  given  a  thought 
to  that  aspect  of  the  matter.  If  one  thing  were  cer- 
tain, it  was  that  Jenny,  when  she  accepted  her  legacy 
from  Octon  and  brought  Margaret  to  Breysgate, 
thereby  abandoned  and  renounced  all  thought  of  re- 
newing her  relations  with  Fillingford.  I  was  glad  to 
come  to  that  conclusion,  helped  to  getting  at  it 
clearly  (as  one  often  is)  by  the  opposite  point  of  view 
presented  by  another.  I  had  never  been  an  enthu- 
siastic Fillingfordite;  I  had  accepted  rather  than  wel- 
comed. And  I  could  bear  him  better  suing  than 
overlooking.  Having  things  overlooked  did  not  suit 
my  idea  of  Jenny — though  I  could  enjoy  seeing  her 
riding  buoyant  over  them. 

Jenny  and  Margaret  came  along  the  terrace  to- 
ward us,  arm  in  arm,  their  approach  heralded  by 
merry  laughter.  "  We've  been  building  castles  in  the 
air!  "  cried  Jenny. 

"  May  you  soon  be  living  in  them!  " 

She  shook  her  head  at  me  in  half-serious  rebuke. 
"They  were  for  Margaret!" 

Jenny  might  deny  herself  the  sky;  but  she  would 
have  castles  somewhere — founded  solidly  on  earth. 
It  was  the  earth  she  trusted  now.  You  cannot  fall  off 
that. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE 

AND  now  about  the  Institute!"  said  Jenny  the 
/-\     next  morning.  Cartmell  had  obeyed  her  sum- 
X    jL.  mons  to    come   up   to   the    Priory,   and    the 
three  of  us  were  together  in  my  office  there. 

She  was  not  wasting  time.  Matters  were  to  move 
quick.  She  had  come  home  with  her  plans  matured, 
ready  for  execution.  The  enemies  might  hesitate,  los- 
ing themselves  in  debate.  She  would  not  hesitate,  nor 
take  part  in  the  debate  about  herself.  Acting  and 
acting  quickly,  she  would  carry  the  position  while 
they  still  discussed  how — or  even  whether — it  should 
be  defended. 

"  The  Committee  stands  adjourned  sine  die,"  said 
Cartmell.  "  You'd  convene  a  meeting?  " 

Jenny  would  have  none  of  convening  the  Commit- 
tee. It  would  be  awkward  if  some  of  the  members  did 
not  come — and  still  more  awkward  if  all  of  them  at- 
tended! 

"  I  regard  the  Committee  as  having  abdicated," 
she  told  us.  "  They  chose  to  adjourn — let  them  stay 
adjourned.  I  shall  go  over  their  heads — straight  to 
the  Corporation.  Let's  see  if  the  Corporation  will  re- 
fuse! If  they  do,  we  shall  know  where  we  are." 

288 


A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE  289 

Of  course  she  did  not  think  that  they  would  refuse, 
or  she  would  never  have  risked  an  offer  which  forced 
the  issue  into  the  open.  Fillingford  had  his  feelings, 
Alison  his  scruples.  Both  scruples  and  feelings  were 
intelligible.  But  was  the  Borough  Council  going  to 
refuse  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  freely  given  for 
the  borough's  benefit? 

"  Hatcham  Ford  as  it  stands — and  a  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds,  please,  Mr.  Cartmell." 

"  With  the  town  spreading  out  as  it  is  in  that  direc- 
tion, that's  more  like  a  hundred  and  fifty  in  reality," 
he  grumbled. 

"  I'm  going  to  bleed  you  sadly!  "  Jenny  assured 
him  gayly.  "  We'll  send  for  Mr.  Bindlecombe  and  get 
this  in  hand  at  once.  We'll  see  the  Institute  growing 
out  of  the  ground  within  the  year!  " 

Bindlecombe,  too,  was  all  for  a  dashing  strategy — 
though  I  think  that  he  would  have  been  for  anything 
that  Jenny  wanted.  The  letter  to  the  Mayor  (Bindle- 
combe no  longer  filled  that  office,  though  he  was  still 
a  leading  member  of  the  Corporation)  was  written; 
it  appeared  in  the  paper;  a  meeting  to  consider  it  was 
called  for  the  next  week.  In  the  same  issue  of  the 
paper  appeared  an  account  of  Jenny's  reception  in 
Catsford,  and  an  announcement  of  the  impending 
holiday  and  feast.  That  issue  might  fairly  be  called 
Jenny's  number.  Her  friends  were  jubilant;  her  ene- 
mies were  bewildered  by  the  audacity  of  her  assault. 

But  Jenny  did  not  come  off  without  loss.  Not  only 
did  she  confirm  the  disapproval  of  those  who  were 
resolute  against  her — I  heard  much  of  Mrs.  Jepps's 
outspoken  and  shocked  comments,  something  of  AH- 


290  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

son's  stern  silence — but  she  lost  or  came  near  to 
losing  an  adherent  of  undoubted  value. 

Dash  and  defiance  were  not  Lady  Aspenick's  idea 
of  the  proper  way  of  proceeding;  and  another  thing 
offended  her  no  less.  She  had,  I  think,  on  the  news 
of  Jenny's  return,  devised  a  scheme  by  which  she  was 
to  be  Jenny's  protector  and  champion;  she  would 
throw  the  segis  of  Overington  Grange's  undoubted 
respectability  over  Jenny's  vulnerable  spot;  her  in- 
fluence, tact,  and  diplomacy  would  gradually  smooth 
Jenny's  path  back  to  society;  Jenny  would  be  bound 
to  gratitude  and  to  docility.  The  dashing  strategy 
upset  all  that;  the  appearance  of  Margaret  Octon  up- 
set it  still  more. 

She  paid  her  call  on  Jenny — her  previous  position 
committed  her  to  that.  She  drove  over — not  in  a  tan- 
dem— on  the  same  day  on  which  all  the  news  about 
Jenny  was  in  the  paper.  I  met  her  as  she  went  away, 
happening  to  come  up  to  the  Priory  door  just  as  she 
was  coming  out — Jenny  not  escorting  her.  She  was 
looking  black. 

"  It's  pleasant  to  welcome  you  to  a  cheerful  house 
once  again,  Lady  Aspenick.  We've  had  a  long  dull 
time  at  the  Priory." 

"  You  won't  be  dull  now,  anyhow,"  she  rejoined 
with  some  acidity.  She  dropped  her  voice  that  the 
men  might  not  hear.  "  Oh,  how  unwise!  All  this 
parade  and  splash!  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  feel  about 
it — and  Jack,  too!  And  poor  Mr.  Alison!  And,  to 
crown  all,  she  flings  the  thing  in  our  faces  by  bring- 
ing this  girl  with  her!  " 

"  She's  a  very  nice  girl,"  I  pleaded  meekly. 


A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE  291 

7i  I  know  nothing  about  that.  She's  that  man's 
daughter.  Surely  Jenny  Driver  might  have  known 
that  her  chance  lay  in  having  it  all  forgotten  and — 
and  in  being — well,  just  the  opposite  of  what  she  is 
now?  She  goes  on  as  if  she  were  proud  of  herself!  " 

As  a  criticism  on  Jenny's  public  attitude,  there  was 
some  truth  in  this.  I  could  not  tell  Lady  Aspenick 
about  her  private  attitude — nor  would  it  make  mat- 
ters better  if  I  did. 

"  She  makes  it  very  hard  for  her  friends,"  con- 
tinued the  aggrieved  lady.  "  We  were  anxious  to  do 
our  best  for  her.  But  really — !  '  Words  failed.  She 
shook  her  head  emphatically  at  me  and  walked  off 
to  her  carriage. 

I  found  Jenny  in  a  fine  rage  as  the  result  of  Lady 
Aspenick's  expression  of  her  views — which  had  ap- 
parently been  nearly  as  frank  to  her  as  to  me.  Yet 
she  protested  that  she  had  behaved  with  the  utmost 
wisdom  and  meekness — for  Margaret's  sake. 

"  I  stood  it,  Austin,"  she  declared,  with  a  little 
stamp  of  her  foot.  "  How  I  stood  it  I  don't  know, 
but  I  did.  She  lectured  me — she  told  me  I  ought  to 
have  been  guided  by  her!  She  said  I  was  going  quite 
the  wrong  way  about  it  with  the  Institute  and  that 
she  deeply  regretted  the  '  scene  '  in  Catsford.  The 
scene!  She  threatened  me  with  the  parsons  and  the 
Puritans!" 

How  very  angry  Jenny  was!  Parsons  and  Puritans! 

"  And  ended  up — yes,  she  dared  to  end  up — by 
telling  me  I  must  send  Margaret  away.  She'll  see 
more  of  Margaret  than  she  thinks  before  she's  done 
with  her!  " 


292  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  And  you  were  very  meek  and  mild?  " 

"  I  know  you  don't  believe  it.  But  I  was.  I  was 
absolutely  civil  and  thanked  her  for  her  kindness. 
But  of  course  I  said  that  I  must  judge  for  myself — 
and  that  the  question  of  Margaret  lay  absolutely  out- 
side the  bounds  of  discussion." 

"  To  which  Lady  Aspenick ?  " 

'  She  got  up  and  went.  What  did  she  say  to  you?  " 

"  Much  the  same — that  you  were  making  it  very 
difficult  for  her." 

"  I've  gained  more  than  I've  lost  in  Catsford," 
Jenny  declared  obstinately  and  confidently.  Then  her 
voice  softened.  "  As  for  poor  little  Margaret — it's  not 
a  question  of  my  gain  or  my  loss  there.  You  do  know 
that?"  She  was  appealing  to  me  for  a  kind  judg- 
ment. 

"  I'm  beginning  to  understand  that." 

"  I  stand  or  fall  with  Margaret;  or  I  fall — if  only 
she  stands.  That's  final."  She  broke  into  a  smile. 
"  So,  in  spite  of  what  you  think,  I  drove  myself  to 
be  civil  to  Susie  Aspenick.  But  let  her  wait  a  little! 
Send  Margaret  away!"  Jenny  looked  dangerous 
again. 

Jenny  could  have  forgiven  the  criticism  of  her 
Catsford  proceedings — though  not  over  easily;  the 
attempt  to  touch  Margaret  rankled,  and,  if  I  mis- 
took not,  would  rankle,  sorely. 

It  is  pleasant  to  record  that  Jenny's  chivalrous  de- 
votion to  her  "  legacy "  found  appreciation  else- 
where; it  softened  an  opponent,  and  stirred  to  en- 
thusiasm one  already  inclined  to  be  a  friend. 

I  had  a  note  from  Alison:  "  I  can't  countenance  her 


A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE  293 

goings  on  in  Catsford — her  courting  of  publicity  and 
applause,  her  holidays  and  picnics — no,  nor — at  pres- 
ent— her  Institute  either.  If  she  is  entitled  to  come 
back  at  all,  she  is  not  entitled  to  come  in  triumph — 
far  from  it.  But  I  like  and  admire  what  she  is  doing 
about  Miss  Octon,  and  I  have  scandalized  Mrs.  Jepps 
and  many  other  good  folk  by  saying  so.  In  that  she's 
brave  and  honest.  I  shouldn't  mind  if  you  could  let 
her  know  how  I  feel  on  this  second  point;  my  views 
on  the  first  she'll  know  for  herself." 

I  did  take  occasion  to  let  Jenny  know  what  Alison 
wished  to  reach  her.  "  He  may  think  what  he  likes 
about  Catsford,  if  he's  on  my  side  about  Margaret," 
she  declared  with  evident  pleasure.  Then  her  eyes 
twinkled.  "  We'll  have  him  yet,  Margaret  and  I  be- 
tween us!  "  she  added. 

The  next  Sunday  she  attended  Alison's  church — 
she,  Chat,  and  Margaret  Octon.  I  hope  that  she  was 
not  merely  "  doing  the  civil  thing,"  like  the  duchess 
in  the  story.  After  all  she  had  always  been  one  of  his 
bugbears — one  of  the  people  who  went  "  fairly  regu- 
larly." 

That  same  Sunday,  in  the  afternoon,  Lacey  came 
to  see  me.  He  drove  up  in  his  dog-cart,  handed  the 
reins  to  a  good-looking  dark  man,  with  upturned 
mustaches,  who  sat  by  him,  and  came  to  my  door. 
Having  seen  their  arrival,  I  was  there  to  open  it 
and  welcome  him. 

"  Won't  your  friend  come  in,  too?  "  I  asked. 

"  He's  all  right;  he's  in  no  hurry,  and  he's  got  a 
cigar.   I   want    to  speak   to   you   alone  for  just   a 


minute." 


294  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

He  followed  me  in  and  sat  down.  His  manner  was 
thoughtful  and  a  little  embarrassed. 

"  I  saw  you  down  in  Catsford  the  other  day,"  I 
remarked.  V  They  were  very  kind  to  us!  " 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,  Austin,"  he  said. 
"  Do  you  think  that  Miss  Driver  would  wish  to  re- 
ceive a  call  from  me?  " 

"  I'm  sure  she'd  be  delighted." 

"  Wait  a  bit.  You  haven't  heard  the  whole  posi- 
tion. You  saw  me  in  Catsford?  You  saw  me  bow  to 
her?  " 

I  nodded  assent. 

"  Then  I  think  I  ought  to  go  and  pay  her  my  re- 
spects— if  it's  not  disagreeable  to  her  to  receive  me." 

"  But  why  should  it  be?  " 

"  I  belong  to  Fillingford  Manor.  I'm  living  there 
now.  Neither  the  master  nor  the  lady  of  the  house 
will — neither  of  them  shares  my  views." 

That  did,  on  reflection,  make  the  matter  a  little 
less  simple  than  it  had  seemed  at  first. 

"  I  don't  suppose  we  either  of  us  want  to  discuss 
their  reasons — or  wonder  at  the  line  they  take.  I  had 
a  little  talk  with  my  father  about  it.  He's  always  very 
fair.  '  You're  a  man,'  he  said.  '  Decide  for  yourself. 
If  after  the  recognition  that  passed  between  you — 
and  on  your  initiative,  as  I  understand — you  feel 
bound — as  you  say  you  do — as  a  gentleman  to  go 
and  pay  your  respects,  go.  But  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  you  if  you  will  make  the  relations  between  that 
house  and  this  as  distant  as  is  consistent  with  the 
demands  of  courtesy.'  " 

"  In  view  of  that  I  don't  think  you're  in  any  way 


A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE  295 

bound  to  call:  I'm  not  at  all  sure  you  ought  to.  Lord 
Fillingford's  wishes  are  entitled  to  great  weight — 
especially  while  you're  living  in  his  house." 

He  was  a  man  now — and  a  fine  specimen  of  one — 
but  his  boyish  impetuosity  had  not  left  him.  "  By 
Jove,  I  want  to  go,  Austin!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  I  thought  that  perhaps  you  did." 

"  I  want  to  go  and  see  her — and  I  should  like  to 
tell  her,  if  I  dared,  that  there's  not  a  man  in  the  ser- 
vice to  touch  her.  I  don't  mean  her  driving  through 
Catsford — though  she  took  a  risk  there;  some  of 
those  chaps  aren't  mealy-mouthed.  I  mean  what  she's 
done  about  this  little  Miss  Octon.  That's  what  I  like. 
Because  the  girl's  her  man's  daughter,  she  snaps  her 
fingers  at  the  lot  of  us!  That's  what  I  like,  Austin — 
that's  why  I  want  to  go  and  see  her.  But  I  couldn't 
say  that  to  the  governor." 

"  You'll  never  be  able  to,  any  better.  So  you  must 
consider  your  course.  Is  it — loyal — to  your  father?  ;: 

He  knit  his  brows  in  perplexity  and  vexation. 
"  Was  I  loyal  to  him  that  night  we  went  to  Hatcham 
Ford?  You  didn't  make  that  objection  then!'! 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  have  taken  any  objection 
to  anything  that  gave  a  chance  then.  I  can  look  at 
this  more  coolly.  Why  not  wait  a  little?  Perhaps  Lord 
Fillingford  will  come  to  the  conclusion  that  bygones 
had  best  be  bygones." 

"And  Aunt  Sarah?" 

"  Is  that  quite  so  essential?  " 

He  sat  struggling  between  his  scruples  and  his 
strong  desire — loyalty  to  his  father,  admiration  of 
Jenny  and  attraction  toward  her. 


296  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  I  might  manage  to  give  her  a  hint  of  how  you 
feel — and  about  the  difficulty." 

"  That'd  be  better  than  nothing.  Then  she'd  under- 
stand  ?  " 

"  She'd  understand  the  whole  position  perfectly," 
I  assured  him. 

He  was  plainly  discontented  with  this  compro- 
mise, but  he  accepted  it  provisionally.  "  You  give  her 
that  hint,  anyhow,  like  a  good  fellow,  Austin — and 
I'll  think  over  the  other  matter."  He  rose  from  his 
chair.  "  Now  I  mustn't  keep  Gerald  Dormer  wait- 
ing any  longer." 

"  Oh,  that's  Gerald  Dormer,  is  it — the  new  man 
at  Hingston?  " 

"  Yes,  he's  not  a  bad  fellow — and  he  doesn't  think 
he  is,  either."  With  this  passing  indication  of  Mr. 
Dormer's  foible,  he  led  the  way  out  of  doors  and 
introduced  me  to  the  subject  of  his  remark.  Gerald 
Dormer's  manner  was  cordial  and  self-satisfied.  We 
stood  in  talk  a  minute  or  two.  The  news  of  the  holi- 
day and  of  the  feast  in  our  park  had  reached  Dormer, 
and  he  laughingly  demanded  an  invitation.  "  I'm 
pretty  hard  up,  and  nobody  gives  me  a  dinner!  "  he 
protested. 

"  I'll  make  a  note  of  your  hard  case  and  submit  it 
to  Miss  Driver.  But  you're  not  a  Driver  employee, 
you  know." 

"  Oh,  but  I'm  quite  ready  to  be — for  a  good  screw, 
Mr.  Austin." 

"  Here  she  comes,  by  Jove!  "  said  Lacey  in  a  quick 
startled  whisper. 

Yes,  there  she  was,  within  thirty  yards  of  us,  com- 


A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE  297 

ing  down  the  hill  from  the  Priory  straight  toward 
my  house.  Lacey  glanced  at  the  dog-cart,  seeming  to 
meditate  flight;  then  he  pulled  off  the  right-hand 
glove  which  he  had  just  put  on  and  buttoned. 

"Is  that  Miss  Driver?"  whispered  Dormer.  I 
nodded  assent. 

Jenny  was  in  great  looks  that  day,  and,  it  seemed, 
in  fine  spirits.  Her  head  was  held  high,  her  step  was 
buoyant,  there  was  a  delicate  touch  of  color  in  her 
cheeks  as  she  came  up  to  us.  She  met  the  gaze  of  all 
our  eyes — for  all,  I  am  sure,  were  on  her — with  a 
gay  smile  and  no  sign  of  embarrassment. 

"  Why,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  again,"  she  cried  to 
Lacey  as  she  gave  him  her  hand.  "  You  can't  think 
how  often  I've  dreamed  of  our  rides  since  I've  been 
away!  " 

'  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Driver.  May  I 
introduce  my  friend,  Mr.  Dormer — of  Hingston? ': 

She  bowed  to  him  very  graciously,  but  turned 
back  directly  to  Lacey.  I  saw  Dormer's  eyes  follow 
her  movements  with  an  admiring  curiosity.  Small 
wonder;  she  was  good  to  look  at,  and  he  had,  no 
doubt,  heard  much. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  me,"  said  Jenny.  "  Now 
when  shall  it  be?  Lunch  to-morrow?  Or  tea?  Not 
later  than  the  next  day,  anyhow!  " 

At  that  point  she  must  have  seen  something  in  his 
face.  She  stopped,  smiled  oddly,  even  broke  into  a 
little  laugh,  and  said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "  Oh,  I 
forgot,  how  stupid  of  me!  " 

Her  tone  and  air,  and  the  look  in  her  hazel  eyes, 
were  nicely  compounded  of  humility  and  mockery. 


298  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Confessing  herself  unworthy,  she  asked  the  man  if 
he  were  afraid!  Didn't  he  dare  to  trust  himself — was 
he  so  careful  of  his  reputation? 

Lacey  had  promised  me  that  he  would  "  think 
over  "  the  question  of  his  relations  toward  Breysgate 
Priory.  I  suppose  that  he  thought  it  over  now — un- 
der Jenny's  humble  deriding  eyes. 

"  Lunch  to-morrow — I  shall  be  delighted.  Thanks 
awfully,"  he  said. 

So  ended  that  case  of  conscience.  Jenny  said  no 
more  than  "  One-thirty  " — but  her  lips  curved  over 
that  prosaic  intimation  of  the  hour  of  the  meal.  She 
turned  to  Dormer. 

"  Could  I  persuade  you  to  drop  in,  too,  Mr.  Dor- 
mer? We're  neighbors,  you  know." 

"  It's  most  kind  of  you,  Miss  Driver.  I  shall  be 
delighted." 

No  scruples  there;  yet  he,  too,  was,  as  he  had 
chanced  to  mention,  a  guest  at  Fillingford  Manor. 

"  Besides,  I  want  to  get  something  out  of  you," 
Jenny  went  on,  "  and  I'm  much  more  likely  to  do 
that  if  I  give  you  a  good  lunch." 

"  Something  out  of  me?  What,  Miss  Driver?  " 

"  Ah,  I  shan't  tell  you  now.  Perhaps  I  may — after 
lunch." 

He  leaned  down  toward  her  and  said  banteringly, 
"You'll  have  to  ask  me  very  nicely!" 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  shall!  "  cried  Jenny,  with  a 
swift  upward  glance. 

Jenny  was  flirting  again — with  both  of  them — per- 
haps with  me  also,  for  her  side-glances  in  my  direc- 
tion challenged  and  defied  my  opinion  of  her  pro- 


A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE  299 

ceedings.  I  was  glad  to  see  it;  I  did  not  want  her 
abnegations  to  go  too  far,  and  it  is  always  a  pity  that 
natural  gifts  should  be  wasted;  one  might,  however, 
feel  pretty  sure  that  any  Lent  of  hers  would  have  its 
Mi-Careme. 

But  if  flirting — a  thing  pleasant  in  itself,  an  exer- 
cise of  essentially  feminine  power — it  was  also  pur- 
poseful flirting.  She  conciliated  the  new  owner  of1. 
Hingston,  who  had  his  position — who  also  had  his 
outlying  farms;  and  again  she  drove  a  wedge — this 
time  into  Lord  Fillingford's  house-party. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  can  come,"  she  said  to  Lacey. 
"  I  want  you  to  meet  Margaret  so  much."  She 
paused  for  a  second.  "  Miss  Octon,  you  know."  She 
looked  him  very  straight  in  the  face  as  she  spoke. 

"  It's  very  good  of  you  to  let  me,"  he  said.  "  I  hear 
she's  charming." 

"  I'm  sure  the  Priory  needs  no  additional  attrac- 
tion." This  from  Dormer  in  the  dog-cart. 

To  one  who  knew  Jenny  well  it  was  possible  to  see 
that  this  speech  was  not  wholly  to  her  liking — but 
Dormer  was  not  allowed  to  see  it.  He  received  a 
passing  but  sufficient  smile  of  graciousness  before  she 
gave  the  hearty  thanks  of  her  eyes  to  Lacey.  "  She 
is  charming — you'll  think  so."  A  second's  pause 
again,  and  then — "  It's  really  very  good  to  see  you. 
Some  day — a  ride?  Margaret's  having  lessons  down 
in  the  town.  Austin  can  ride  still,  although  he  has 
taken  to  writing  books.  We  shall  make  quite  a  cav- 
alcade." 

"  I  say,  don't  leave  me  out,  Miss  Driver."  This, 
again,  from  Dormer  in  the  dog-cart. 


300  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  You  live  too  far  off." 

"You  try  me  and  see!"  he  protested.  Evidently 
he  was  very  well  pleased  with  the  progress  which  his 
short  acquaintance  was  making. 

Lacey  shook  hands  with  her  again.  "  To-morrow 
at  half-past  one,  then — both  of  you!  "  she  said. 
He  turned  away — was  it  reluctantly? — and  got  into 
the  cart.  With  wavings  of  hands  and  hats  the  two 
young  men  drove  off.  Jenny  stood  looking  after 
them. 

"  What  brought  you  here?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  sight  of  those  young  men,"  answered  Jenny, 
smiling.  "  May  I  come  into  your  house?  Do  you  re- 
member how  I  came  in  first?  " 

"  I  remember;  we  had  parted  forever  in  the  after- 


noon." 


"  Things  are  generally  like  that.  The  people  who 
seem  transient  stay,  the  people  who  seem  permanent 
go.  I'm  glad  you  seemed  transient,  Austin."  She  was 
in  my  room  now,  thoughtfully  looking  round  it  as 
she  talked. 

'  Lacey  came  here  to  ask  whether  you  would  like 
him  to  call." 

"  Of  course  I  should  like  him  to  call." 

"  Against  his  father's  wishes.  Lord  Fillingford  did 
not  forbid  him  to  come,  but  expressed  his  hope  that 
the  relations  between  the  two  houses  would  be  kept 
as  distant  as  courtesy  allowed.  I  told  Lacey  that,  in 
view  of  his  father's  wish,  it  would  be  better  for  him 
not  to  call.  He  said  he'd  think  it  over.  It  was  a  ques- 
tion between  loyalty  to  his  father  and  admiration  of 
you." 


A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE  301 

"  Admiration?  "  Jenny  was  listening  with  a  slight 
smile. 

"  Rather,  of  your  behavior — especially  about  Mar- 
garet. He's  enthusiastic  about  that — he  thinks  it 
splendidly  brave.  In  case  he  decided  against  calling, 
he  wanted  you  to  know  that." 

"  He  would  have  decided  against  it?  " 

"  I  can't  tell.  He  meant  to  think  it  over." 

"  I  came  down  just  by  accident.  I  was  going  for  a 
stroll  when  I  saw  you.  And  I  came  down  on  the 
chance — the  chance  of  something  amusing,  Austin." 
She  frowned  a  little.  "  I  don't  think  I  much  like  Mr. 
Dormer." 

"  Rather  a  conceited  fellow." 

She  broke  into  a  smile  again.  "  But  he  may  come 
in  very  convenient." 

"  To  his  own  profit  and  comfort?  " 

"  I  think  conceited  people  must  take  the  chance  of 
that.  They  expose  themselves." 

"  To  being  robbed  of  their  farms  by  deceitful 
wiles?  " 

"  He'd  get  a  very  good  price  for  his  farms,"  said 
Jenny.  I  do  not  think  that  her  mind  had  been  occu- 
pied with  the  question  of  the  farms.  She  was  looking 
thoughtful  again.  "  I  don't  think  I  quarrel  with  what 
Lord  Fillingford  said,"  she  added. 

"  Not  unnatural  perhaps." 

"  I've  never  had  any  quarrel  with  Lord  Filling- 
ford,"  she  said  slowly.  "  Or  only  one — a  woman's 
quarrel.  He  never  fell  in  love  with  me.  If  he  had, 
perhaps — !  "  She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  But  all 
that  sort  of  thing  is  over  now." 


3o2  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Did  it  look  so  like  it  this  afternoon?  " 

"Didn't  we  agree  that  I  was  —  marriageable? 
Didn't  you  say  that  being  marriageable  was  an  asset 
— even  though  one  didn't  marry?  "'  She  came  sud- 
denly closer  to  me.  "  I've  no  right  to  ask  you  to 
trust  me.  I  didn't  trust  you — I  deceived  you  delib- 
erately, carefully,  grossly — and  yet  I  expected  you 
to  help  me — and  took  your  help  with  very  little 
thanks.  Still — you  stayed.  Stay  now,  and  don't  think 
too  badly." 

"I  don't  think  badly  at  all — why,  you  know  it! 
But  I  must  have  my  fun  out  of  it." 

"  So  you  shall,  Austin!  "  she  laughed,  with  one  of 
her  sudden  transitions  to  gayety.  "  I'm  the  fox,  and 
you're  the  huntsman!  Well,  I'll  try  to  give  you  a 
good  run  for  your  money — if  you  can  follow  the 
scent!" 

"  Through  all  your  doubles?  " 

"  Through  all  the  doubles  that  lead  me  to  my — 
earth!" 

A  dainty  merry  little  face  looked  in  at  my  window. 
"  Oh,  I've  tracked  you  at  last,  Jenny! ': 

"  Is  everybody  tracking  me?  "  asked  Jenny,  her 
eyes  mischievously  mocking.  "  Run  round  to  the 
door  and  come  in,  Margaret."  She  added  quickly  to 
me,  "  I'm  glad  she  didn't  come  when  they  were  here. 
I'm  saving  her  up  till  to-morrow!  " 

The  child  came  in  and  ran  to  Jenny.  "  Oh,  what  a 
delightful  little  room,  Mr.  Austin!  Did  my  father 
ever  come  here?  " 

"  Yes,  pretty  often,"  I  answered.  "  We  were 
friends,  you  know." 


A    CASE    OF    CONSCIENCE  303 

"  Yes,  and  he  hadn't  many  friends.  Had  he, 
Jenny?  " 

Jenny  stooped  down  and  kissed  her.  "  Come,  we'll 
go  for  our  walk — to  look  at  Hatcham  Ford,"  she 
said. 

Shall  we  go  inside?  " 

It's  all  shut  up,"  said  Jenny. 


<< 


CHAPTER    XX 

LIVING    PIECES 

JENNY  had  now  on  the  board  all  the  pieces 
needed  for  her  great  combination — embracing, 
as  it  did,  the  restoration  of  her  own  position, 
the  regaining  of  Catsford's  loyal  allegiance,  the  ex- 
tension of  her  territory  and  influence  in  the  county, 
and  "  doing  the  handsome  thing  by  "  Margaret.  No- 
body who  watched  her  closely — both  what  she  did 
and  the  hints  of  her  mind  which  she  let  fall — could 
long  doubt  which  of  these  objects  was  paramount 
with  her.  It  was  the  last.  The  others  were,  in  a  sense, 
no  more  than  means  to  it;  though  in  themselves  ir- 
resistible to  her  temperament,  necessary  to  her  hap- 
piness, and  instinctively  sought  by  her,  yet  in  the 
combination  they  stood  subsidiary  to  the  master- 
stroke that  was  to  crown  her  game  and  redeem  the 
pledge  which  she  had  given  to  Leonard  Octon  as  he 
lay  dying.  But  doing  the  handsome  thing  by  Mar- 
garet carried  with  it,  or,  rather,  contained  within  it- 
self, as  Jenny  conceived  the  position,  another  object 
to  which  in  its  turn  it  was,  if  not  subsidiary,  so 
closely  related  as  to  be  inseparable.  Fate  had  severed 
her  life  from  Octon's;  Jenny  imperiously  refused  to 
accept  the  severance  as  complete.   Octon,  the  man 

3°4 


LIVING    PIECES  305 

she  loved,  had  been  at  odds  with  the  neighborhood, 
had  been  scorned  and  rejected  by  it;  she  herself  had 
openly  disgraced  him  at  its  bidding;  because  she  had 
not  been  able  to  resist  his  fascination,  she  had  her- 
self fallen  into  disgrace.  She  meant  now  to  obliterate 
all  that.  For  him  she  could  directly  do  nothing;  she 
would  do  everything  for  his  name  and  for  the  girl 
whom  he  had  left.  She  would  vindicate — or  avenge 
— his  memory;  she  would  even  glorify  it  in  the  per- 
son of  his  daughter.  That  was  the  ultimate  impulse 
which  gave  birth  to  her  combination  and  dictated  its 
moves;  the  achievement  of  that  end  was  to  be  its 
consummation. 

It  was  not  a  selfish  impulse;  it  had  indeed  a  touch 
of  something  quixotic  and  fanciful  about  it — this 
posthumous  victory  which  she  sought  to  win  for 
Octon,  this  imposing  of  him  in  his  death  on  a  society 
which  would  have  nothing  of  him  while  he  lived,  this 
proud  refusal  to  court  or  to  accept  oblivion  for  him 
or  for  her  friendship  with  him,  this  challenge  thrown 
out  to  his  detractors,  in  his  name,  as  it  were  from  his 
grave.  Her  personal  restoration  and  aggrandizement, 
if  welcome  in  themselves,  were  also  necessary  to  this 
final  object.  The  object  itself  was  not  self-seeking 
save  in  so  far  as  she  stood  identified  with  the  cause 
which  she  championed.  Yet  on  the  realization  of  it 
she  did  not  scruple  to  bring  to  bear  all  the  resources 
and  all  the  arts  which  would  have  been  appropriate 
to  the  most  cold  and  calculating  selfishness.  Every- 
thing was  pressed  into  the  service — the  resources  of 
her  own  wealth,  the  opportunities  afforded  by  the 
needs  of  her  neighbors,  Catsford's  appetite  for  holi- 


306  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

days  and  feasts,  as  well  as  its  aspirations  toward 
higher  education;  her  own  youth  and  attractiveness 
no  less  than  Margaret's  beauty;  the  wiles  and  the 
cunning  by  which  she  gained  power  over  men.  She 
spent  herself  as  lavishly  as  she  spent  her  money;  she 
was  as  ready  to  sacrifice  herself  as  she  was  eager  to 
make  use  of  others.  She  seized  on  every  new  ally  and 
fitted  him  into  her  scheme.  Dormer  had  appeared  at 
the  last  moment — by  happy  chance.  In  a  moment  she 
saw  where  he  could  be  of  use,  laid  her  hand  on  him, 
and  pressed  him  into  the  service.  He  became  a  new 
piece  on  the  board;  he  had  his  place  in  the  combina- 
tion. 

Delicate  and  difficult  is  the  game  when  it  is  played 
with  living  pieces.  They  may  refuse  to  move — or  may 
move  in  the  wrong  direction.  There  was  one  piece,  of 
supreme  importance  in  the  scheme,  which  she  must 
handle  with  rarest  skill  if  he  were  to  be  induced  to 
move  at  her  bidding  and  in  the  direction  that  her 
combination  required.  He  was  to  be  the  head  and 
front  of  the  final  attack ;  at  the  head  of  the  opposing 
forces  stood  his  father !  She  must  be  very  sure  of  her 
control  over  that  piece  before  she  tried  to  move  it! 
Only  when  he  had  been  brought  wholly  under  her 
sway  could  the  process  of  impelling  him  in  the  de- 
sired direction  safely  be  begun. 

Yes,  Fillingford  was  the  great  enemy.  Round  him 
gathered  all  the  opposition  to  her,  her  proceedings, 
and  her  pretensions;  he  lay  right  across  her  path, 
and  must  be  conquered  if  her  schemes  were  to  win 
success.  She  was  not  bitter  against  him;  she  was 
ready  to   admit  that   he  had   the  right  to  be  bitter 


LIVING    PIECES  307 

against  her.  She  shared  his  pride  too  much  not  to 
appreciate  his  attitude.  She  respected  him,  in  a  way 
she  liked  him — but  she  was  minded  to  fight  him  to 
the  death  if  need  be,  and  to  use  against  him  every 
weapon  that  she  could  find — even  those  that  came 
from  his  own  household.  If  he  fell  before  her  at- 
tack, the  whole  campaign  would  be  won.  But  it 
was  preposterous  to  suppose  that  he  ever  would? 
Jenny  knew  the  difficulties,  but  neither  did  she  under- 
estimate her  own  resources.  A  long  purse,  a  long 
head,  and  two  remarkably  attractive  young  women 
— these  formed  the  nucleus  of  her  forces;  they  repre- 
sented a  power  by  no  means  to  be  despised  in  what- 
ever field  they  might  be  brought  into  action. 

I  was  at  the  luncheon-party — "  to  talk  to  Chat," 
said  Jenny;  but  in  fact  I  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of 
lunching  at  the  Priory.  Jenny  had  human  weaknesses, 
and,  from  this  time  on,  manifested  a  liking  for  a  sym- 
pathetic audience — which  she  could  find  only  in  me. 
Chat  was  not,  in  her  judgment,  "safe";  she  was 
too  leaky  a  vessel  to  be  trusted  with  the  drops  of 
confidence — carefully  measured  drops — which  Jenny 
was  pleased  to  let  fall.  Besides,  she  needed,  now  and 
then,  a  little  help. 

The  young  men  arrived  in  high  spirits,  and  Jenny, 
flanked  by  Chat  and  myself — Margaret  was  not  down 
from  changing  after  her  riding  lesson  —  received 
them  gayly.  They  had  a  joke  between  themselves, 
and  it  was  not  long  in  coming  out.  They  had  been 
compelled  to  dodge  Lady  Sarah;  only  a  bolt  up  a 
side  road  had  prevented  them  from  meeting  her  car- 
riage face  to  face  just  outside  Breysgate  Park. 


3o8  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  You're  playing  truants,  I'm  afraid!  "  said  Jenny, 
but  with  no  air  of  rebuke. 

Loft  announced  lunch;  we  went  in  without  waiting 
for  Margaret.  She  did  not  appear  till  we  had  been 
eating  for  ten  minutes.  By  that  time  Jenny  had  both 
her  guests  well  in  hand.  If  her  manner  to  Dormer 
was  cordial,  yet  it  lacked  the  touch  of  intimacy,  of 
old-time  friendliness,  which  she  had  for  Lacey.  But 
neither  was  she  any  longer  so  candidly  Lacey's 
friend — and  so  definitely  nothing  else — as  she  had 
once  thought  it  politic  to  become.  She  did  not  now 
hold  her  wiles  in  leash;  she  loosed  them  in  pursuit  of 
him,  even  as  in  the  earliest  days  of  their  acquaintance. 

The  door  opened.  Jenny's  eyes  flew  quickly  to  it; 
she  stopped  talking  and  seemed  to  wait  for  some- 
thing. Margaret  came  running  in,  her  hair  bright  in 
the  summer  sun,  her  eyes  sparkling  and  her  cheeks 
glowing  —  the  very  picture  of  radiant  youth  and 
beauty.  Only  a  few  feet  separated  me  from  Lacey.  I 
heard  him  say  "  By  Jove!  "  half  under  his  breath. 

Jenny  heard,  too.  "  Here's  Margaret,"  she  said. 
The  girl  ran  to  her,  took  her  hand,  and  began  to 
make  a  thousand  excuses  for  being  late. 

"  And,  after  all  the  rest,  that  nice  clergyman 
stopped  me  on  the  road  and  talked  to  me!  " 

"  You  mean  Mr.  Alison?  He  stopped  you?  "  Jenny 
looked  interested.  "  What  did  he  say?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing — only  that  he'd  known  my  father, 
and  that  he  hoped  I  was  very  happy.  Of  course  I  am 
— with  you !  " 

"  There's  your  place — between  Mr.  Dormer  and 
Austin.  Sit  down,  or  Loft  won't  give  you  any  lunch." 


LIVING    PIECES  309 

Between  Dormer  and  me  was  opposite  Jenny  and 
Lacey — Chat  and  I  each  sitting  at  an  end  of  the 
oblong  table.  Jenny  showed  no  remission  in  her  ef- 
forts to  keep  Lacey  amused — indeed  she  rather  en- 
grossed him,  and  the  other  four  of  us  talked  together. 
But  from  time  to  time  his  eyes  strayed  across  the 
table — and  once  he  caught  Miss  Margaret  studying 
his  handsome  face  with  evident  interest.  The  girl 
blushed.  Jenny  was  smiling  contentedly  as  she  re- 
gained her  guest's  attention. 

Dormer  made  great  play  with  the  pretty  girl.  It 
did  not  take  long  to  discover  that  this  was  Dormer's 
way.  He  had  the  gift — one  enviable  to  slow-tongued 
folk  like  myself — of  a  perpetual  flow  of  small  talk; 
this  he  peppered  copiously — I  must  confess  to  think- 
ing that  it  needed  seasoning — with  flirtation,  more 
or  less  obvious — generally  more.  He  plied  Margaret 
with  the  product,  much  to  her  apparent  liking;  she 
was  at  her  prettiest  in  her  timid  fencing  with  his  com- 
pliments, her  shy  enjoyment,  her  consciously  daring 
little  excursions  into  coquetry.  But  Dormer's  eyes 
were  not  all  for  his  own  side  of  the  table  either;  he 
made  an  effort  or  two  to  draw  Jenny  into  conversa- 
tion; he  often  looked  her  way.  With  those  two  in 
the  room  together,  a  man  might  well  be  puzzled  to 
decide  on  which  face  to  turn  his  eyes.  Jenny  assisted 
Dormer's  choice.  She  would  not  be  drawn  by  him 
— she  was  still  for  Lacey.  The  two  couples  talked, 
Chat  and  I  falling  out  of  the  conversation;  we  could 
not  condescend  to  call  commonplaces  across  the 
space  that  divided  us,  and  Chat  and  I  seldom  talked 
anything  else  to  one  another. 


310  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

After  lunch  we  all  went  into  the  garden — except 
Chat,  who  always  took  a  siesta  when  she  could.  Here 
Jenny  carried  off  Dormer,  to  see  the  hothouses — it 
was  time  to  be  civil  to  him.  I  fancied  that  she  would 
not  be  vexed  if  I  left  Lacey  and  Margaret  to  a  tete-a- 
tete,  so,  when  they  proposed  strolling,  I  was  firm  for 
sitting,  and  we  parted  company.  I  could  watch  them 
as  I  sat.  The  two  were  getting  on  very  well.  For  a 
little  while  I  watched.  My  cigarette  came  to  an 
end — I  followed  Chat's  excellent  example  and  fell 
asleep. 

I  awoke  to  find  Jenny  standing  beside  me.  She  was 
pulling  a  rose  to  pieces  and  smiling  thoughtfully.  Our 
guests  had,  it  seemed,  departed;  Margaret  was  visible 
in  a  hammock  under  a  tree  at  the  other  end  of  the 
lawn. 

"  I've  really  had  to  be  quite  shy  with  Mr.  Dormer 
in  the  hothouses,"  she  said.  "  He's  such  a  ladies' 
man!  And  he's  gone  away  with  the  impression  that 
that's  the  sort  of  man  I  like.  He  has  pointed  out  that 
Hingston  is  only  fifteen  miles  off,  and  that  he  has  a 
motor  car  and  can  do  the  distance  in  twenty-two — 
or  was  it  twenty-seven? — minutes,  so  that  lots  can 
be  seen  of  him,  if  desired.  He  has  hinted  that  this 
is,  after  all,  a  lonely  life  for  me — for  a  person  of  my 
gifts  and  attractions — and  has  congratulated  me  on 
the  growing  prosperity  of  Catsford.  What  do  you 
make  of  all  that,  Austin?  " 

"  Perhaps  you  told  him  that  you  wanted  a  bit  of 
his  land?  " 

"  Mr.  Cartmell  would  never  have  forgiven  me  if 
I'd  let  slip  such  a  propitious  opportunity.  I  did." 


LIVING    PIECES  311 

"  It  rather  looks  as  if  he  wanted  all  of  yours,"  I 
suggested. 

'  Then  he  communicated  to  me  the  impression 
that,  in  his  opinion,  Lord  Lacey  was  considerably 
smitten  with  Eunice  Aspenick  and  that  the  match 
might  come  off.  In  return  for  which  I  managed,  I 
believe,  to  convey  to  him  a  sort  of  twofold  impres- 
sion— first,  that  I  might  possibly  marry  myself — 
some  day;  secondly,  that,  when  I  did,  Margaret 
would  be  dismissed  with  a  decent  provision — a  small 
addition  to  the  little  income  which  she  has  from  her 
father.  For  reasons  of  my  own  I  laid  some  stress  on 
the  latter  half  of  that  impression,  Austin."  She  was 
looking  over  to  where  Margaret  lay  in  the  hammock. 
"  She's  very  young,"  she  said  softly,  "  and  of  course, 
the  man's  glib  and  in  a  way  good-looking." 

"  Are  you  beginning  to  feel  a  little  responsible?  It's 
easy  work,  marrying  off  other  people!  " 

'But 'they  make  such  a  beautiful  pair!"  she 
pleaded.  She  did  not  mean  Margaret  and  Dormer. 
"  I  love  just  to  see  them  together.  And  the  idea  of 
it!  How  Leonard  would  have  laughed!  Can't  you 
hear  that  great  big  outrageous  guffaw  of  his  break- 
ing out  over  it?  But  you  don't  think  I'd  force  her?  " 

'  No.  And  he's  a  fine  lad.  You  wouldn't  be  going 
far  wrong." 

"  She's  very  young.  She  might — make  a  mistake. 
I  thought  Mr.  Dormer  had  better  understand  her 
real  situation." 

'  O  mistress  of  many  wiles,  I  understand!  But  is 
Lacey  to  share  the  impression?  " 

"  I  should  like  him  to — up  to  the  last  possible  min- 


312  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

ute.  And  then — the  fairy  godmother!  It's  all  on  the 
old-fashioned  lines — but  I  like  it."  Her  voice  dropped 
"  The  old,  mischievous,  none-too-respectable  fairy 
godmother,  Austin!" 

"  Suppose  the  fairy  godmother  seemed  not  so 
very  old  herself — that  mischief  proved  attractive — • 
that ?  " 

'  Impossible — with  her  here!  Oh,  you  really  think 
so,  only  you're  always  so  polite.  But  anything  short 
of — of  that — would  be  quite  within  the  four  corners 
of  the  scheme."  She  laughed  at  me,  at  her  schemes, 
at  herself;  yet  about  the  two  last  she  was  in  deadly 
earnest.  So  she  grew  grave  again  in  a  moment. 
"  He'd  have  to  get  over  so  much  to  make  that  seem 
even  possible." 

Well,  that  was  true  enough.  Fillingford's  son — the 
accomplice  of  my  evening  expedition  to  Hatcham 
Ford!  There  was  something  to  get  over,  certainly. 
But  there  was  something  to  get  over  in  the  other 
plan,  too. 

"  Still,  I  don't  mind  its  seeming — just  possible," 
said  Jenny.  She  looked  at  me  with  an  air  of  wonder- 
ing how  I  should  take  what  she  was  going  to  say. 
"  It  might  just  be  made  to  seem — a  danger! ': 

"  This  is  walking  on  a  razor's  edge,  isn't  it?  ': 

"  Yes — it  is  rather.  Mr.  Dormer's  got  to  help  a 
little.  I  don't  like  him,  Austin." 

"  No  more  do  I — since  you  mention  it.  And  you'd 
have  no  pity  for  him  either?  " 

"  I  shall  get  his  bit  of  land,  but  he  won't  get  all 
mine,"  said  Jenny,  serenely  pitiless.  "  He  plays  his 
game — I'll  play  mine.  We  neither  of  us  stake  our 


LIVING    PIECES  313 

hearts,  I  think.  You  can't  stake  what  you've  never 
had — or  what  you've  lost."  She  stood  silent  for  a 
minute,  looking  down  to  where  the  smoke  of  busy 
Catsford  rose  in  a  blue  mist  between  us  and  the  hori- 
zon. "  He's  just  ridiculous,  but  he  serves  my  turn. 
No  need  to  talk  any  more  about  him!  " 

Margaret  tumbled  herself  out  of  the  hammock 
with  a  grace  which  was  entirely  accidental  and  nar- 
rowly skirted  a  disaster  to  propriety.  She  came  across 
the  lawn, .yawning  and  laughing.  "  I've  been  asleep, 
Jenny,"  she  cried,  "  and  having  wonderful  dreams!  " 

Jenny's  face  lit  up  with  an  extraordinary  tender- 
ness. She  drew  the  girl  to  her  and  stroked  her  hair. 
"  Why  did  you  wake  up?  It's  a  pity  to  wake  up  when 
the  dreams  are  wonderful." 

"  Oh,  but  waking  up's  great  fun,  too!  Everything's 
great  fun  at  Breysgate." 

Stroking  Margaret's  hair,  Jenny  looked  down  at 
me  in  my  wicker  armchair.  "  I've  been  having  fun, 
too — telling  Austin  secrets!  " 

"  Tell  me  some." 

"The  day  after  to-morrow — or  just  about  then!" 
laughed  Jenny. 

The  ensuing  days  were  full  of  triumph  for  Jenny. 
Her  munificent  donation  was  gratefully  and  enthusi- 
astically accepted;  a  new  Committee,  composed  of 
members  of  the  Corporation,  was  appointed  to  take 
in  hand  the  erection  of  the  Institute  immediately; 
there  was  no  danger  of  this  Committee's  adjourning 
sine  die\  Her  holiday  and  her  feast  went  off  in  a  blaze 
of  success.  She  received  a  wonderful  ovation  from  the 
town;  there  was  no  appearance  of  her  being  ostra- 


314  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

cized  by  the  county.  She  came  out  to  greet  her 
guests,  supported  by  the  Aspenicks,  by  Dormer,  even 
by  Lacey;  it  was  significant  that  the  last-named 
should  appear  on  so  public  an  occasion.  His  presence 
compromised  the  attitude  of  Fillingford  Manor; 
though  its  master  was  not  there,  though  the  lady  who 
presided  over  the  house  was  severely  absent,  the  heir 
was  there — and  there,  evidently,  on  terms  of  friend- 
ship and  intimacy. 

Lady  Aspenick  came,  I  think,  not  merely  because 
she  was  committed  to  civility;  she  also  desired  to 
spy  out  the  land,  to  get  some  light  on  the  situation. 
Lacey's  visits  to  Breysgate  were  becoming  frequent; 
they  had  not  passed  unnoticed  by  vigilant  eyes  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  the  report  of  them  had 
reached  Overington  Grange.  Did  Lacey  brave  the 
disapproval  of  his  family  for  nothing?  While  Eunice 
joined  the  gay  group  which  followed  Jenny  as  she 
made  a  progress  round  the  tables,  Lady  Aspenick 
fell  to  my  share. 

"  All  this  is  a  great  triumph  for  Jenny's  friends," 
she  remarked.  "  Those  of  us  who  have  been  her 
friends  all  through,  I  mean." 

"  It  must  be  very  gratifying  to  you,  Lady  As- 
penick." 

"  I  have  been  loyal,"  she  said  with  candid  pride, 
"  and  I  am  loyal  still,  although,  as  I  told  you,  I  can't 
approve  of  everything  she  does."  Her  eyes  were  on 
the  group  in  front  of  us,  where  Lacey  walked  be- 
tween Eunice  and  Margaret.  Dormer  was  escorting 
Jenny,  with  the  new  Mayor  of  Breysgate  on  her 
other  side. 


LIVING    PIECES  315 

"  She  has  her  own  way  of  doing  things,"  I  mur- 
mured. "  Sometimes  they  come  off." 

"  Amyas  Lacey  here,  too!  How  is  that  regarded  at 
the  Manor?" 

"  You  ask  me — but  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you 
knew  better  than  I  do,"  said  I,  smiling. 

"Well,  I  admit  I  know  Lady  Sarah's  views;  she 
makes  no  secret  of  them.  I  was  thinking  of — well,  of 
his  father,  you  know.  He  doesn't  share  these  visits!  " 

"  If  common  gossip  was  right,  there's  an  obvious 
explanation  of  that." 

"  Yes,  but  it  seems  to  me  to  apply  to  the  son  al- 
most as  strongly."  She  turned  her  eyeglasses  sharply 
round  to  my  face.  "  Having  jilted  his  father " 

"  I  didn't  say  I  believed  the  common  gossip;  but 
even  the  fact  of  its  having  existed  might  make  him 
shy  of " 

"  Oh,  come,  we  both  know  a  good  deal  more  than 
that  about  it!  However,  let's  hope  they'll  make  it  up 
— through  Amyas.  He  can  act  as  peacemaker,  and 
then  we  may  have  the  wedding  after  all! ': 

Lady  Aspenick's  voice  failed  to  carry  conviction. 
It  was  borne  in  upon  me  that  she  did  not  believe  in 
her  own  forecast — that  she  knew  very  well,  from  in- 
formation gleaned  in  the  enemy's  camp,  that  there 
was  small  chance  of  Lacey's  effecting  a  reconcilia- 
tion, and  none  at  all  of  a  marriage  between  Jenny 
and  Fillingford  coming  off.  She  threw  out  the  sug- 
gestion as  a  feeler;  another  possible  alliance  was 
really  in  her  mind.  She  might  elicit  some  hint  about 
that;  if  people  spoke  truly,  she  was  interested  in  the 
subject  for  her  daughter's  sake.  Was  it  possible  that 


316  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Jenny,  having  lost  the  father,  would  annex  the  son? 
That  was  in  her  mind.  It  would  be  rather  a  strong 
thing  to  do — but  then,  Lady  Aspenick  would  retort, 
"Only  look  at  the  things  she  does!"  The  woman 
who  brought  Margaret  Octon  to  Breysgate — would 
she  hesitate  at  capturing  young  Lacey  if  she  could? 

"  I  can  only  say  that  in  my  opinion  it's  not  at  all 
likely,  and  has  never  entered  Miss  Driver's  head." 

"  Then  it's  very  funny  that  Amyas  should  come 
here  so  much!  " 

"  Young  men  like  young  company,"  I  remarked. 

"  It's  not  quite  the  only  house  in  the  neighborhood 
where  there's  young  company,"  she  retorted  sharply. 
My  remark  had  certainly  rather  overlooked  the 
claims  of  Overington  Grange. 

She  said  no  more,  perhaps  because  her  fish — my 
humble  self — did  not  bite,  perhaps  merely  because  at 
that  moment  the  Mayor  of  Catsford  began  to  make 
a  speech,  highly  eulogistic  of  Jenny  and  all  her 
works.  Lady  Aspenick  listened — or  at  least  looked 
on  (listening  was  not  easy) — with  an  air  which  was 
distinctly  critical. 

Dormer  was  remarkably  jubilant  that  day  —  per- 
haps as  a  result  of  his  exchange  of  impressions  with 
Jenny  in  the  hothouses.  He  danced  attendance  on 
her  constantly  and  was  evidently  only  too  glad  to  be 
seen  in  her  train.  Jenny  received  his  homage  with 
the  utmost  graciousness;  he  might  well  flatter  him- 
self that  he  stood  high  in  her  favor.  There  was  a 
familiarity  in  his  manner  toward  her  which  grated 
on  my  nerves;  it  had  been  there  from  his  first  meet- 
ing with  her.  It  looked  as  though  he  thought  that 


LIVING    PIECES  317 

her  past  history  gave  him  an  advantage,  and  entitled 
him  to  consider  himself  a  better  match  for  her  than 
he  would  have  been  held  to  be  for  another  woman 
in  her  position.  Perhaps  Jenny  would  have  had  no 
right  to  resent  such  an  idea;  at  any  rate  she  showed 
no  signs  of  resenting  his  behavior.  She  let  him  al- 
most monopolize  her — saving  the  Mayor's  official 
rights — leaving  Lacey  to  the  care  of  Eunice  As- 
penick  and  of  Margaret. 

Lacey  looked  much  less  happy  than  might  have 
been  expected  in  such  company.  He  appeared  restless 
and  ill  at  ease.  When  we  were  having  a  smoke  to- 
gether, while  the  ladies  were  getting  ready  for  dinner 
(which  was  to  be  eaten  hastily  and  followed  by 
fireworks),  I  got  some  light  on  the  cause  of  his 
discontent. 

"  It's  curious,"  he  observed  over  his  cigar,  "  how 
disagreeable  girls  can  manage  to  be  to  one  another 
without  saying  a  word  that  you  can  lay  hold  of." 

"  It  is,"  said  I.  "  Who's  been  exercising  the  gentle 
art  this  afternoon?  " 

"  Why,  Eunice  Aspenick!  You  saw  us  three  walk- 
ing together?  Well,  we  must  have  been  walking  like 
that — round  the  tables,  you  know — for  the  best  part 
of  an  hour.  Upon  my  honor,  I  don't  believe  she  once 
addressed  a  remark  directly  to  Miss  Octon!  And 
when  Miss  Octon  spoke  to  her,  she  answered 
through  me.  And  why?  " 

"  The  tandem  whip,  I  suppose — hereditary  feud 
and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  It's  not  Miss  Octon's  fault;  it's  a  shame  to  make 
her  responsible." 


318  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  other  reason." 
He  pulled  his  trim  little  fair  mustache;  I  rather 
think  that  he  blushed  a  little.  "  I  don't  like  it,  and 
I've  a  good  mind  to  tell  Eunice  so.  Miss  Octon  is 
Miss  Driver's  guest,  just  as  we  are,  and  on  that 
ground  anyhow  entitled  to  civility." 

I  believe  that  he  carried  out  his  possibly  chivalrous 
but  certainly  unwise  purpose,  and  no  doubt  he  got 
a  snubbing  for  his  pains.  At  any  rate  he  had  a  short 
interview  with  Eunice  just  before  we  dined — and, 
afterwards,  spoke  to  her  no  more  that  evening.  While 
the  fireworks  blazed  and  the  rockets  roared,  he 
placed  himself  between  Jenny  and  Margaret.  I  man- 
aged to  get  near  Margaret  on  the  other  side,  just  for 
the  love  of  seeing  the  beauty  of  the  girl's  face  as  she 
watched  the  show  with  an  intensity  of  excitement  and 
delight.  She  clapped  her  hands,  she  laughed,  she  al- 
most crowed  in  exultation.  Once  or  twice  she  caught 
Lacey  by  the  arm,  as  you  see  a  child  do  with  its 
father  when  the  pleasure  is  really  too  much  to  hold  all 
by  itself.  Jenny  seemed  to  heed  her  very  little — and 
to  heed  Amyas  Lacey  even  less;  she  looked  decidedly 
ruminative,  gazing  with  a  grave  face  at  the  spectacle, 
her  clean-cut  pallid  profile  standing  out  like  a  coin 
against  the  blaze  of  light.  Amyas  glanced  at  her  now 
and  again,  but  he  was  not  proof  against  the  living, 
exuberant,  ebullient  joy  that  bubbled  and  gurgled 
on  his  other  side.  Presently  he  abandoned  himself 
altogether  to  the  charm  of  it,  fell  under  its  sway, 
and  became  partaker  of  its  mood.  Now  they  were 
two  children  together,  their  shouts  of  laughter,  of 
applause,  of  simulated  alarm,  filling  the  air.  Grim 


LIVING    PIECES  319 

looked  the  Aspenick  ladies,  very  scornful  that  ele- 
gant gentleman  Mr.  Dormer!  Margaret  had  never  a 
thought  for  them;  if  Lacey  had,  he  cast  it  away. 

Thus  they  were  when  the  show  ended — but  its 
ending  did  not  check  their  talk  and  their  laughter. 
Jenny  rose,  refreshments  were  spread  within;  to  call 
Lacey's  attention  to  her,  she  touched  his  shoulder. 
He  turned  round  suddenly — with  a  start. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  I  beg  your  pardon!  I — I  didn't  know 
you  were  still  there,  Miss  Driver." 

"  There's  something  to  eat  indoors,"  said  Jenny. 
"If  you  want  it!" 

"  Oh,  no,  Jenny,  dear,  it's  much  nicer  here.  I'm 
sure  Lord  Lacey  isn't  hungry!" 

He  was  not.  Jenny  turned  away.  As  she  passed  me, 
she  gave  me  an  odd  sort  of  smile,  amused,  satisfied, 
just  a  trifle — the  least  trifle — scornful.  "  Success 
number  one!  "  she  whispered.  "  But  it's  just  as  well 
that  I'm  not  a  vain  woman,  Austin!  " 

"  You  could  undo  it  all  in  ten  minutes  if  you 
liked." 

Jenny's  smile  broadened  a  little  —  and  her  eyes 
confessed. 


CHAPTER    XXI 


NATHAN    AND    DAVID 


THE  state  of  affairs  at  Fillingford  Manor 
must  have  been  profoundly  uncomfortable. 
The  father  and  his  sister  banned  and  boy- 
cotted Breysgate;  the  son  spent  there  every  hour  of 
his  leisure — he  had  much  now,  for  the  Parliament 
session  was  over — and  made  small  secret  of  the  fact 
that  he  cared  very  little  to  be  anywhere  else.  Yet  care 
came  with  him;  he  had  more  than  a  lover's  prover- 
bial moodiness.  He  never  spoke  of  his  home;  it  was 
the  silence  of  conscious  guilt;  at  Fillingford  Manor, 
no  doubt,  he  avoided  all  mention  of  us.  More  than 
once  he  took  refuge  at  Hingston  and  paid  his  visits 
from  there  in  company  with  his  host;  it  is  not  proba- 
ble that  Fillingford  Manor  was  deceived  by  this  ma- 
neuver, but  the  daily  strain  of  awkwardness  was 
avoided.  Dormer  was  complaisant.  That  young  man 
had  sharp  eyes;  he  soon  began  to  be  at  least  very 
doubtful  whether  he  need  fear  Lacey  as  a  rival;  when 
the  two  were  at  Breysgate  together,  it  was  Dormer's 
society  now  that  Jenny  sought.  She  would  pair  off 
with  him,  leaving  Margaret  and  Lacey  together.  He 
took  from  this  some  encouragement,  but  he  had  also 
a  lurking  fear  that  Jenny  was  angling  for  Fillingford 

320 


NATHAN    AND    DAVID  321 

again,  hoping  some  day  to  get  at  him  through  his 
son.  He  would  make  allusions,  in  Lacey's  absence, 
to  Fillingford's  notorious  obstinacy  in  all  matters — 
how  that  he  never  changed  his  mind,  was  never  open 
to  reason,  never  forgot  nor  forgave.  The  more  open 
hints  were  bestowed  on  me — for  transmission  to 
Jenny;  the  more  covert  he  risked  conveying  to  her 
direct.  She  would  agree  with  a  smile  of  resignation, 
and  redouble  her  graciousness  to  Dormer.  Yet  the 
graciousness  had  limits.  She  kept  him  at  his  distance 
— eager,  yet  hesitating,  and  fearful  to  take  the 
plunge.  She  had  need  of  him  still  for  a  while  longer; 
under  the  cover  he  afforded  she  was  gradually,  dex- 
terously, unobtrusively,  sheering  off  from  Lacey. 

The  operation  needed  skill  and  pertinacity;  for  at 
first  the  young  man  resisted  it  vigorously.  The  more 
delicately  she  worked,  the  less  conscious  was  he  that 
she  was  working  at  all.  Her  avoidance  of  him  seemed 
to  him  like  his  neglect  of  her;  when  he  had,  by  her 
maneuvers,  been  kept  out  of  her  company  for  an  hour 
together,  his  loyalty  accused  him  of  a  lack  of  atten- 
tion and  of  gratitude.  He  would  come  back  penitent 
from  Margaret's  side,  and  turn  again  his  chivalrous 
devotion  to  Jenny;  he  was  remorseful  at  finding  how 
happy  he  had  been  with  another — at  beginning  to 
find  that  he  was  even  happier.  He  did  not  impute  to 
her  any  jealousy,  or  resentment  at  the  fickleness  of 
a  lover,  but  he  feared  that  she  would  be  hurt  by  any 
falling-off  in  the  affectionate  homage  which  he  had 
been  wont  to  pay.  Insensibly  he  was  courting  Mar- 
garet— but  always  by  Jenny's  permission.  If  it  had 
been  her  will  to  summon  him  back  to  her  side  by  his 


322  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

allegiance,  he  would  have  come;  but,  as  day  followed 
day,  more  and  more  reluctantly.  Margaret's  spell  was 
gaining  in  power. 

It  could  not  well  be  otherwise.  Youth  turned  to 
youth,  the  fresh  heart  to  the  fresh.  Over  Margaret 
hung  no  shadow;  she  was  unspotted  from  the  world. 
In  her  there  was  no  calculation,  and  no  scheming; 
all  was  instinctive  and  spontaneous.  Her  love  leaped 
forth  unashamed  because  it  was  unconscious  of  its 
very  self.  The  fresh  strange  joy  that  painted  life  in 
new  colors  was  unanalyzed.  She  was  just  so  much 
happier,  so  much  more  gay,  finding  the  days  so  much 
better.  She  did  not  ask  why,  but  gave  herself  whole- 
heartedly to  the  new  delight.  With  Jenny  effaced  by 
her  own  choice,  this  unmeant  challenge  fired  Lacey 
to  response;  their  fleet-footed  feelings  raced  against 
one  another,  still  neck  and  neck  as  they  drew  near 
the  goal.  A  little  further,  and  they  would  find  them- 
selves at  it.  It  would  then  be  time  for  Jenny  to  act. 

The  world  misjudged  her — which  was  just  what 
she  wished.  Opinion  was  clear  and  well-nigh  unani- 
mous; for  Jenny  rehabilitation  lay  in  marrying  and 
could  not  be  complete  without  it:  then  she  meant  to 
marry — Lacey  if  she  could,  Dormer  if  she  must. 
There  lay  the  explanation  of  the  two  young  men 
being  always  at  Breysgate!  Lacey  was  the  object  of 
Jenny's  spring;  if  she  missed  the  mark,  she  would 
fall  back  on  Dormer.  But  would  she  miss  it?  Gossip 
was  rife,  eager,  interested,  over  this,  and  over  this 
opinions  varied;  much  is  forgiven  to  sixty  thousand 
a  year,  said  some;  there  was  one  thing  which  Filling- 
ford  Manor  would  never  overlook,  said  others.  But 


NATHAN    AND    DAVID  323 

on  the  whole  it  was  admitted  that  there  was  great 
danger  of  her  success;  it  was  speculated  on  with  the 
fearful  joy  that  the  prospect  of  a  social  disaster  has 
the  power  to  excite.  Nobody  thought  of  Margaret, 
or  that  she  had  any  part  to  play  in  the  matter,  All 
eyes  were  on  Jenny;  it  could  not  be  many  days  before 
news  came!  There  had  hardly  been  more  excitement 
over  the  flight  itself. 

Besides  all  the  gossipers  and  watchers,  there  was 
one  man  who  acted — according  to  his  lights,  whether 
they  were  right  or  wrong.  I  have  hinted  that  Ali- 
son took  a  view  of  his  office  and  its  responsibilities 
which  was  at  least  fully  adequate — and  seemed  to  a 
good  many  people  more  than  that.  He  was  not  con- 
tent to  stand  by  and  see  what  he  thought  wrong 
done  without  a  protest.  It  was  nothing  to  him  that 
he  might  be  told  to  mind  his  own  business:  he  would 
very  confidently  challenge  your  definition  of  his 
business  and  your  idea  of  its  limits;  he  would  be  very 
sure  what  his  orders  were  and  where  they  came  from. 
Moreover  he  had  seen  the  affair  from  the  other  side. 
He  was  intimate  at  Fillingford  Manor. 

He  wrote  to  Jenny  asking  if  he  might  call  on  her; 
he  wanted  to  have  a  few  words  with  her  on  a  matter 
of  importance  relating  to  herself.  He  added  that  he 
was  acting  entirely  on  his  own  responsibility  and  in 
no  way  at  the  suggestion  of  any  other  person. 

Jenny  twisted  his  letter  in  her  hands  with  an  air 
of  irresolution,  almost  of  shrinking. 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  him,"  she  said  to  me  plain- 
tively. "  It  won't  be — comfortable.  He's  let  me  se- 
verely alone  up  to  now.  Can't  he  let  me  alone  still? 


324  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

I  suppose  he'll  lecture  me  horribly!  If  there  were  any- 
thing to  be  got  by  it!  But  there  isn't." 

"  He  sent  you  a  pleasant  message  about  Mar- 
garet," I  reminded  her. 

"  Yes,  so  he  did.  And  I  don't  want  him  to  think  me 
afraid.  I'll  see  him.  But  I'm  afraid  of  him.  Austin, 
you  must  be  there." 

"  I  don't  think  he'll  expect  that." 

Never  mind  what  he  expects.  If  I  see  him,  it's  on 
my  own  conditions.  I  want  you  there.  It's  cowardly, 
but  I  do.  Tell  him  he  can  come,  but  that  I  propose  to 
see  him  in  your  presence." 

So  she  would  have  it,  being  obviously  disturbed  at 
the  idea  of  the  interview.  Was  he  coming  to  her  as 
Nathan  came  to  David — to  denounce  her  sin?  He 
was  no  doubt  wrong  about  her  intentions  for  the  fu- 
ture, but  he  was  fatally  right  in  his  opinion  about 
what  she  had  done  in  the  past.  He  had  a  locus  standi, 
too,  or  so  he  would  conceive — a  professional  right 
to  tell  her  the  truth. 

"  I'm  spoiled.  I  haven't  had  half  enough  of  the  dis- 
agreeables," she  said  with  a  woeful  smile. 

There  was  truth  in  that — so  far  as  external  things 
went,  visible  and  palpable  pains  and  penalties.  She 
had  not  paid  full  toll.  Luck  had  been  with  her  and 
had  afforded  her  a  case — not  a  good  one,  but  good 
enough  to  give  her  courage  a  handle.  Her  other 
advantages  —  her  attractiveness,  her  position,  her 
wealth,  she  had  used  with  dexterity  and  without 
scruple  to  protect  her  from  punishment.  She  had  ca- 
joled and  she  had  bribed — both  successfully;  only  the 
irreconcilables  remained  unreconciled.   To  no  small 


NATHAN    AND    DAVID  325 

extent  she  had  jockeyed  outraged  morality — in  ex- 
ternals. Many  people  did  it  even  more  successfully — 
by  not  being  even  half  found  out,  and  therefore  not 
put  on  their  defense  at  all.  But  for  one  who  had  been 
at  least  half  found  out,  against  whom  circumstantial 
evidence  was  terribly  strong  although  direct  proof 
might  be  lacking,  she  had  come  off  very  cheaply.  No- 
body about  her  told  her  so;  we  spoiled  her.  She  was 
afraid  that  Alison,  in  manner,  very  likely  even  in 
words,  would  tell  her  now,  face  to  face.  Being  taken 
to  task  was  terribly  against  the  grain  with  her.  Only 
Jenny  might  punish  Jenny — and  the  blows  must  fall 
in  secret. 

Alison  came  to  my  house  first  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  the  time  of  his  appointment  with  Jenny.  He 
was  grave  and  silent;  in  the  spirit,  though  naturally 
not  in  the  flesh,  he  wore  full  canonicals;  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  office  was  about  him.  I  had  grown — 
and  I  may  as  well  confess  it — into  an  intellectual  hos- 
tility to  all  this,  a  skepticism  which  prompted  re- 
bellion. But  he  was  doing  what  he  disliked  very  much 
in  obedience  to  his  view  of  duty.  It  is  churlish  to 
show  disrespect  to  a  man  acting  in  that  way,  simply 
because  one  may  consider  his  view  incorrect  or  ex- 
aggerated. I  had  once  charged  him  with  wanting  to 
burn  people;  let  me  not  fall  into  the  temptation  of 
wanting  to  burn  him — or  where  stood  my  boasted 
liberality  of  thought? 

"  I'm  not  sorry  that  you're  to  be  with  us,  Austin," 
he  said,  as  we  walked  up  to  the  Priory.  "  Interfere 
if  I  show  any  signs  of  growing  hot." 

"  If  she  tells  you  the  truth,  you  won't  grow  hot. 


326  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

But  if  you  grow  hot,  she  won't  tell  you  the  truth,"  I 
answered. 

"  I  don't  go  in  my  own  strength,"  he  reminded  me 
with  gentle  gravity. 

On  the  terrace,  by  the  door,  Margaret  lay  on  a 
long  wicker  chair.  She  sprang  up  when  we  came 
near,  blushing  in  her  artless  fashion  at  the  encounter. 
Alison's  stern-set  face  flashed  out  into  a  tender  de- 
lighted smile.  "God  bless  the  pretty  child!"  he 
murmured  as  he  went  forward  and  shook  hands  with 
her.  She  had  her  little  pet  dog  with  her,  and  they 
talked  a  minute  or  two  about  it.  He  was  country- 
bred  and  had  dog-lore;  she  listened  with  an  interest 
almost  reverential.  "  Now!  "  he  said  with  a  sigh,  as 
he  left  her  to  go  into  the  house.  He  had  welcomed 
that  little  interlude  of  brightness. 

Jenny  received  him  with  stately  dignity;  if  Nathan 
came  to  David,  still  let  him  remember  that  David 
was  a  King!  She  rose  for  a  moment  from  the  high- 
backed  elbow-chair  in  which  she  sat;  she  did  not  of- 
fer her  hand  but,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  her  head, 
indicated  a  chair.  Then,  seated  again,  she  awaited  his 
opening  with  the  stillness  of  a  forced  composure.  She 
might  be  afraid;  she  would  show  no  fear.  She  faced 
him  full  where  he  sat,  and  challenged  the  light  that 
fell  on  her  face  from  the  big  window.  I  stood  lean- 
ing against  the  mantelpiece,  a  few  paces  from  her  on 
her  left. 

"  In  coming  to  you,  Miss  Driver,"  he  said,  "  I'm 
doing  an  unconventional  thing.  The  circumstances 
seem  to  me  to  call  for  it;  it's  the  only  thing  left  to  do, 
and  nothing  will  be  gained  unless  I  face  it  and  do  it 


NATHAN    AND    DAVID  327 

plainly.  I  want  to  tell  you  something  about  a  house- 
hold which  you  have  no  opportunity  of  seeing — 
something  about  Fillingford  Manor.  I  go  there,  you 
know;  you  don't." 

"  No — not  now,"   said  Jenny. 

'  I  say  nothing  about  Lady  Sarah.  She  is  not,  per- 
haps, very  wise  or  very  generous.  Yet  even  for  her 
allowances  are  to  be  made." 

'  I  make  such  allowance  as  consists  in  absolute  in- 
difference, Mr.  Alison." 

"  That's  beyond  your  right — but  no  matter.  In 
that  house  there  is  a  father  who  loves  his  son  and 
who  respects  himself.  The  father  is  miserable  and 
humiliated.  Do  you  recognize  any  responsibility  in 
yourself  for  that?  " 

"  Lord  Fillingford  once  wanted  to  marry  me — for 
my  money,  I  think." 

'  I  think  you  do  him  less  than  justice.  Never  mind 
that.  I  answer  by  asking  you  why  he  doesn't  want  to 
marry  you  now — even  with  your  money." 

"A  very  palpable  hit!"  said  Jenny  with  a  slight 
smile.  "  But  did  you  come  here  only  to  say  things 
like  that?  I  know  you  think  you  have  a  right  to  say 
them — but  what's  the  good?  " 

'  The  good  is  if  they  make  you  think — and  I  have 
a  right  to  say  them,  though  I  fear  your  bitterness 
made  me  put  them  too  harshly.  If  so,  I  beg  your  par- 
don. In  whatever  way  I  put  them,  the  facts  are  there. 
Father  and  son  are  strangers  in  heart  already;  very 
soon  they  will  be  enemies  if  you  persist  in  what  you 
are  doing." 

'  What  am  I  doing?  "  asked  Jenny,  smiling  again. 


32 


8  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Evil,"  he  replied  uncompromisingly.  '  Wanton 
evil  if  you  don't  mean  to  marry  this  young  man — 
deliberate  evil  if  you  do." 

"  Why  deliberate  evil  if  I  do?  " 

"  You  have  no  right  to  marry  the  son  of  that  man. 
It  would  create  a  position  unnatural,  cruel,  hideous." 

"Alison,  Alison!  "  I  murmured.  I  thought  that  he 
was  now  "  growing  hot."  But  he  took  no  notice  of 
me — nor  did  Jenny. 

"  An  inevitable  and  perpetual  quarrel  between 
father  and  son,  a  perpetual  humiliation  for  a  man  who 
trusted  you — and  was  wrong  in  doing  it!  Dare  you 
do  that — with  what  there  is  lying  between  you  and 
Lord  Fillingford?  " 

"  What  is  there?  " 

"At  least  deceit,  broken  faith,  trust  betrayed, 
honor  threatened.  Is  there  no  more?  " 

Jenny  looked  at  him  now  with  somber  thoughtful- 

ness. 

"  We're  not  children,"  he  went  on.  "  If  there  is  no 
more,  what  was  easier  than  to  say  so,  to  lay  scandal 
to  rest,  to  give  an  account  of  yourself?  Wasn't  that 
easy  r 

"  Lying  is  generally  pretty  easy,"  said  Jenny. 

He  raised  his  hands  in  the  air  and  let  them  fall  in 
a  despairing  gesture.  "  You  yourself  have  said  it! ': 

"  Yes,  I  have  said  it,  Mr.  Alison.  You've  always 
believed  it.  Now  you  know  it.  We're  face  to  face." 

"  Then  face  to  face  I  say  to  you  that  you're  no  fit 
wife  for  that  young  man." 

"No  fit  companion  either,  perhaps?" 

"  I'll  say  no  more  than  I  need  say.  A  sinner  who 


NATHAN    AND    DAVID  329 

repents  is  a  fit  companion  for  the  angels,  and  joyfully 
welcomed.  Haven't  you  read  it?  I  am  on  your  duty, 
not  to  God — I  pray  Him  that  He  may  teach  you  that 
— but  to  the  honorable  man  whom  you  deceived  and 
humiliated.  You  charge  him  with  having  wanted  to 
marry  you  for  your  money.  Take  it  on  that  basis,  if 
you  will.  What  did  you  want  to  marry  him  for?  Was 
it  love?  No;  his  title,  his  position.  Was  the  exchange 
unfair?  The  bargain  was  fair,  if  not  very  pretty.  Even 
to  that  bargain  you  were  grossly  false.  If  I'm  wrong 
in  my  facts,  say  so:  but  if  my  facts  are  right,  in  very 
decency  let  his  house — let  his  son — alone." 

"Your  facts  are  right,"  she  said.  "  I  was  false  to 
the  bargain.  Have  you  said  all  you  have  to  say,  Mr. 
Alison?" 

"  I  have  done — save  to  say  that  what  I  have  said  to 
you  I  have  said  to  nobody  else.  I  am  no  chatterer. 
What  I've  said  to-day  I've  said  in  virtue  of  my  office. 
What  you  have  admitted  to  me  I  treat  as  told  me  in 
the  confessional." 

She  bowed  her  head  slightly,  accepting  his  pledge. 
"  I  know  that,"  she  said.  Then  she  turned  to  me, 
smiling  sadly.  "  I'm  afraid  we  must  tell  him  our  plans, 
Austin — in  strict  confidence?  "  She  did  not  wait  for 
an  answer,  but  went  on  to  him  immediately:  "  I'll 
speak  to  you  on  the  terms  on  which  you  have  al- 
ready heard  me — as  though  I  were  in  the  confes- 
sional." 

"  What  you  are  pleased  to  say  is  safe — but  it's 
your  deeds  I  want,  not  your  words." 

1  My  words  will  make  my  deeds  plain  to  you,"  she 
answered,  and  then  sat  silent  for  a  while,  resting  her 


33o  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

cheek  on  her  hand,  looking  very  steadily  in  his  face. 
At  last  she  spoke  in  a  low  even  voice: 

"  I  don't  admit  your  authority;  and  yet,  as  Austin 
knows,  I  shrank  from  this  meeting.  You  claim  the 
right  to  lay  your  hands  on  my  very  soul,  to  tear  it 
out  and  look  at  it.  I  don't  like  that.  I  resent  it.  And 
what  good  does  it  do?  We  remain  too  far  apart.  I 
shall  make  to  you  no  apology  for  what  I  have  done; 
I  don't  desire  to  defend  myself.  The  thing  is  very 
different  to  me,  and  you  wouldn't  even  try  to  see  the 
difference.  Yet  it  is  not  less  a  great  thing  to  me — 
as  great  as  to  you,  though  different.  Yes,  a  great 
thing  and  a  decisive  one.  I  may  look  at  it  wrongly 
— I  don't  look  at  it  lightly." 

"  I'm  glad  to  be  able  to  think  that — at  least,"  he 
remarked. 

"  I  like  you,  and  I  want  to  work  with  you  in  the 
future.  That's  why  I've  listened  to  you,  and  why  I 
now  tell  you  what's  in  my  mind — why  I  have  come 
face  to  face  with  you.  There  was  no  obligation  on 
me;  my  soul's  my  own,  not  yours,  nor  the  world's. 
But  I  have  chosen  to  do  it.  You  came  here,  Mr. 
Alison,  to  tell  me  that  I  was  not  a  fit  wife  for  Lord 
Fillingford's  son?  " 

He  assented  with  a  nod  and  a  gentle  motion  of  his 
hand. 

"  I  agree  with  you  there — with  all  you've  said 
about  that — but  I  go  much  farther.  I  don't  think  my- 
self a  fit  wife  for  any  man's  son." 

He  looked  up  at  her  with  a  quick  jerk  of  his  head. 

"  I  could  go  to  no  man  as  his  wife  without  telling 
my  story.  And  if  I  told  it,  what  would  he  say?  He 


NATHAN    AND    DAVID  331 

might  say,  'Go  away!'  Probably  most  men  would,  , 
though  there  are  some  I  know  who,  I  think,  would 
not.  Or  he  might  say,  '  That's  all  over — forget  all 
that.  Be  happy  with  me.'  If  he  said  that,  what  should 
I  answer?  I  should  have  to  say,  '  It's  not  all  over; 
it's  not  a  wretched  thing  in  the  past  that  I've  bitterly 
repented  of  and  may  now  hope  to  be  allowed  to  for- 
get and  to  be  forgiven  for.  It's  not  over  and  never 
will  be.  For  me  it's  decisive;  it  will  always  be  there. 
And  it  will  always  be  there  for  you,  too,  and  you  will 
hate  it.'  "  She  spoke  the  last  words  with  a  strong 
intensity.  "  '  Always  something  to  be  ashamed  of, 
something  to  hide,  something  breeding  a  secret  un- 
conquerable grudge!'  That's  handicapping  marriage 
very  heavily — even  though  my  husband  were  not  son 
to  Lord  Fillingford!  Do  you  know  that  it  was  only 
with  the  bitterest  fear  that  I  agreed  to  marry  Leon- 
ard himself?  Should  I  easily  marry  another  man 
now?  " 

"  Don't  ask  her  to  marry  you — it  only  worries 
her."  The  words  of  Leonard  Octon's  letter  came 
back;  I  could  imagine  the  grimly  humorous  smile 
with  which  he  penned  that  bit  of  advice  to  me. 

She  went  on  with  a  sudden  suppressed  passion:  "  I 
want  none  of  it — none  of  it  at  all.  I  can  make  a  happy 
life  for  myself.  I  can  be  useful — even  if  I  have  to  lie — 
in  deeds  if  not  in  words — before  I  can  be  allowed  to 
be  useful.  Why  am  I  to  seek  unhappiness,  to  seek 
fearfulness,  to  create  misery?  The  burden  I  bear  now 
my  own  shoulders  are  broad  enough  to  carry.  I  had 
sooner  carry  it  myself  than  have  another  groaning 
under  it  at  my  side!" 


332  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Cast  your  burden  upon  God,  and  He  will  bear  it. 
This  is  penitence,  if  only  you  would  open  the  eyes  of 
your  heart!  " 

"  Call  it  what  you  like,"  she  said,  a  trifle  impa- 
tiently. "  Let  it  be  pride — pride  for  Leonard  and 
pride  for  myself;  let  it  be  calculation,  precaution, 
fear,  independence — what  you  will.  You  shall  do 
your  own  name-giving,  and  you  may  give  the  name 
that  satisfies  your  theories.  But  I  have  given  you  my 
names  for  it  and  my  account  of  what  I  feel.  Feeling 
that,  am  I  eager  to  marry  Amyas  Lacey?  I'm  not 
eager,  Mr.  Alison." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  The  sound  of  a  horse 
trotting  up  to  the  house  fell  on  my  ears;  Jenny  gave 
me  a  quick  glance.  Alison  seemed  not  to  notice;  he 
was  looking  down  at  the  floor,  deep  in  thought. 
Jenny's  eyes  returned  to  his  face;  she  watched  him 
with  a  smile  as  he  sat  pondering  her  explanation. 

"  I  respect  your  conclusion,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  Even  if  there  were  nothing  but  the  worldly  point 
of  view,  I  should  say  it  was  wise — as  wise  as  it  is 
severe.  I  hope  you  may  find  better  reasons  still  for 
it,  and  new  sources  of  strength  to  carry  it  out." 

"  You  shall  hope — and  we  shall  see,"  she  an- 
swered, not  carelessly,  but  rather  with  an  honest 
skepticism  which  was  willing  to  respect  his  pre- 
possessions, but  would  pay  them  no  insincere 
homage. 

"  There  is  more  for  me  to  do  than  merely  to  hope 
— but  enough  of  that  just  now."  He  smiled  a  little, 
for  the  first  time  in  the  interview.  "  I  mustn't  be  too 
instant  out  of  season.   But  if  that  is  your  conclu- 


NATHAN    AND    DAVID  333 

sion,  Miss  Driver,  how  does  it  fit  in  with  your  con- 
duct? " 

"  It  fits  in  very  well,"  she  replied. 

"  That  wouldn't  be  the  general  opinion.  It's  not 
the  opinion  at  Fillingford  Manor."  He  leaned  back 
in  his  chair,  looking  rather  weary  and  discouraged. 
"  You're  still  minded  to  fence  with  me,  I  see,"  he 
said. 

"No,  I'll  deal  with  you  plainly — but  I  rely  on  your 
pledge.  Nothing  goes  beyond  these  walls — neither  to 
Fillingford  Manor  nor  elsewhere?  " 

"  I  am  bound  to  that:  but  pretenses  are  dan- 
gerous." 

"  It  will  soon  be  time  to  end  this  one." 

As  she  spoke,  merry  voices  floated  into  the  room 
from  the  terrace  outside.  Jenny  listened  with  a  happy 
smile,  and  then  went  on,  "  You  want  to  know  what  I 
mean  by  my  conduct?  Why  I  make  Fillingford 
Manor  unhappy,  and  all  my  neighbors  mad  with 
curiosity? ':  She  laughed  as  she  rose  from  her 
chair.  "  Come  to  the  window  here,"  she  said  to 
Alison. 

They  went  to  the  window,  and  I  followed.  There, 
in  the  mellow  sun  of  the  late  afternoon,  Margaret  lay 
on  her  long  chair,  her  brown  hair  touched  to  gold, 
her  merry  laugh  breaking  out  again,  her  face  up- 
turned to  Lacey's.  He  stood  beside  her,  his  eyes  set 
on  her  face,  a  smile  of  admiration  plain  to  see  on  his 
lips.  It  was  a  fair  picture  of  young  lovers — and  the 
complacent  artist  whose  hand  had  designed  it  turned 
triumphantly  to  Alison. 

"  You  ask  what  I  mean.  I  mean  that,"  she  said. 


334  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Alison  gave  a  violent  start.  "  Miss  Octon!  And 
Amyas?  "  He  looked  for  a  moment  at  the  pair,  then 
turned  back  to  Jenny,  rather  helplessly.  "  But  that's 
pretty  nearly  as  bad  as  the  other!  "  he  blurted  out. 

"  Who  speaks  now?  "  she  asked.  "  The  priest  in 
his  office?  Or  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman?" 


CHAPTER    XXII 


THE    ALTERNATIVE 


A  LISON  watched  the  maid  and  the  young  man 

L\     for  half  a  minute,  then  drew  back  a  little  way 

X    JL  into  the  room;  Jenny  followed  as  far  as  the 

piano  and  stood  leaning  her  elbows  on  the  top  of  it, 

smiling  at  him  in  mockery. 

"  That's  a  fair  question,  perhaps.  But  the  idea  is — 
staggering!  " 

Jenny  raised  her  brows.  "  But  why?  Has  she  prac- 
ticed deceit  and  betrayed  trust?  Has  she  broken  faith 
or  threatened  anybody's  honor?  Or  done  worse 
things  still?  Is  she  no  fit  wife  for  a  young  man?  What 
have  you  against  her,  Mr.  Alison?  Why  is  this  pretty 
nearly  as  bad  as  the  other?  " 

Alison  was  sadly  put  about  and  flustered.  His  con- 
fident air  of  authority  vanished  with  the  unimpeach- 
able ground  on  which  it  had  been  founded.  He  had 
shifted  his  base;  the  new  base  failed  him.  "Surely 
you  must  see!  "  he  protested. 

'  I  see  a  dear  beautiful  girl  and  a  charming  hand- 
some young  man  of  high  degree,"  answered  Jenny  in 
gay  mischief,  "  and  they  look  very  much  in  love  with 
one  another.  Is  that  dreadful?" 

'  It's  quite  a  different  case,  of  course — but  really, 
really,  just  as  hopeless!" 

335 


336  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  You'd  better  not  call  this  hopeless — neither  you 
nor  anybody  else  who  has  anything  to  say  to  it!" 

"  Octon's  daughter!  "  He  ejaculated  the  words  in 
a  low  murmur,  flinging  his  hands  out  wide. 

"  Yes,  that's  it!  '  said  Jenny,  her  smile  getting 
harder,  and  with  a  rather  vicious  look  in  her  eyes. 
"That's  why,  isn't  it?  That's  why  she's  not  good 
enough  for  Amyas  Lacey,  not  good  enough  to  be 
mistress  of  Fillingford  Manor!  There's  nothing  else 
against  her?  Only — she's  Leonard  Octon's  daughter! 
Well,  now,  I  say  to  you  that  that  shall  not  be  against 
her.  It  shall  be  for  her — mightily  for  her.  To  that 
she  shall  owe  everything;  that  shall  give  her  all  she 
wants.  If  you  have  any  influence,  don't  use  it  against 
her.  Use  it  for  her,  back  her  up.  It  will  be  wiser  in 
the  interests  of  the  friends  whom  you're  so  concerned 
for."  She  left  the  piano  and  came  into  the  middle  of 
the  room,  facing  him.  "  Because  it's  the  alternative 
to  that  unnatural  hideous  thing  of  which  you  came 
here  to  speak — and  spoke  so  plainly.  If  I'm  not  much 
mistaken,  I  can  turn  this  thing  the  way  I  choose. 
And  I  tell  you  that  in  spite  of  all  you've  said,  and 
in  spite  of  all  I've  said,  your  friends  will  be  wise  to 
accept  the  lesser  evil.  Margaret  is  better  than  me,  at 
all  events!  " 

She  was  on  her  high  horse  now.  Very  handsome 
she  looked,  with  a  glowing  color  in  her  cheeks;  her 
voice  was  full  of  temper,  hard-held.  It  was  the  turn- 
ing point  of  the  scheme  which  she  was  working  out; 
through  Alison  she  launched  her  ultimatum  to  Fill- 
ingford: "  Margaret  or  myself — there  is  no  other  al- 
ternative." 


THE    ALTERNATIVE  337 

Alison  was  recovering  himself.  He  dropped  into  a 
chair  and  looked  up  at  her  commanding  figure  with 
a  smile  of  kindness — with  an  admiration  wrung  from 
him  by  her  coup. 

"  You're  really  wonderful,"  he  told  her.  "  I'll  say 
that  for  you — and  I'll  be  as  worldly  as  you  like  for  a 
minute." 

"  Yes,  do  try  for  once.  There  is  such  a  thing  as 
this  world." 

"  Then — even  setting  aside  the  obvious  objection, 
the  objection  our  friends  at  the  Manor  are  bound  to 
feel — Lacey  is  Lacey,  and  will  be  Fillingford.  The 
girl — I  think  her  as  charming  as  you  do — comes 
from  nowhere  and  has,  I  suppose,  nothing?  " 

"  She'll  come  from  Breysgate  Priory — and  not 
empty-handed." 

"  Of  course  you'd  behave  kindly  to  her,  but " 

Back  to  Octon's  phrase  went  Jenny — back  to  the 
words  in  which  he  had  bequeathed  his  "  legacy  "  to 
her.  Her  face  softened.  "  I  shall  do  the  handsome 
thing  by  her,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  ''  Can't  you 
understand  why  I  do  this?"  she  asked  him.  "You 
were  one  of  the  few  people  who  seemed  to  under- 
stand why  I  brought  her  here — to  be  with  me.  Can't 
you  understand  this?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  can — a  little.  But  is  it  fair  to  Lord 
Fillingford?" 

"  I  can't  think  always  and  forever  of  Lord  Filling- 
ford," she  told  him  impatiently.  "  He  isn't  all  the 
world  to  me.  I  am  thinking  of  Leonard — this  is  all 
I  can  do  for  him  now.  I'm  thinking  of  the  child — 
and  of  myself.  I  can  give  up  for  myself,  but  this  is 


338  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

my  compensation.  What  I  could  have  she  is  to  have 
— because  she  loves  Amyas,  and  I  love  her — and 
because  I  loved  her  father.  That's  what  I  mean.  I 
daresay  you've  some  very  hard  names  for  it.  They 
made  me  give  up  Leonard  once — at  any  rate  behave 
as  if  I  was  ashamed  of  him.  Very  well.  They  must 
take  Leonard's  daughter  now — or  that  worse  thing 
you  and  I  know  of." 

"  I'm  still  on  the  worldly  plane,"  Alison  said,  smil- 
ing. "  You  can,  of  course,  if  you're  so  minded,  abolish 
all  objections  except  the  sentimental.  If  it's  a  hun- 
dred thousand  for  an  Institute,  what  mightn't  it  be 
for  a  whim,  Miss  Driver?  " 

"  And  what  mightn't  it  be  for  my  dear  man  who's 
dead?  "  said  Jenny,  very  low. 

He  got  up,  went  to  her,  and  took  her  hands.  She 
did  not  repel  him.  He  whispered  a  word  or  two  to 
her — of  comfort  or  sympathy,  as  his  manner  indi- 
cated. Then  he  looked  round  at  me.  "  You've  had  a 
hand  in  this  mischief,  I  suppose,  Austin?  ': 

"  Oh,  we  just  take  our  orders  in  this  house," 
said  I. 

"  Heaven  humble  your  heart!  "  he  said  to  her,  but 
now  the  rebuke  was  kindly,  almost  playful. 

"  The  present  question  is  of  humbling  Lord  Fill- 
ingford's,"  retorted  Jenny. 

Alison  walked  back  to  the  window.  Jenny  gave  me 
a  quick  nod  of  satisfaction;  the  fight  was  going  well. 
"Are  they  still  there?"  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  yes!  He's  sat  down  by  her  on  the 
ground — looking  up,  you  know!" 

"  Yes,  I  can  imagine,  Mr.  Alison." 


THE    ALTERNATIVE  339 

"  A  fine  pair!  "  He  turned  round  with  a  sigh.  "  And 
very  fond  of  one  another!  And  yet  you  think  you 
could — ?  Well,  perhaps  you  could — who  knows?  '! 
He  seemed  to  study  her  thoughtfully. 

"  I  don't  want  to,  you  know — unless  I'm  driven," 
said  Jenny. 

"  You  mustn't  do  it,"  he  told  her,  with  some  re- 
turn of  his  authority.  He  softened  the  next  moment; 
"  I  don't  believe  you  would." 

"  Run  no  risks — advise  your  friends  to  run  none. 
You've  seen  enough  of  me  now  to  know  that  it's  not 
safe  to  conclude  I  shan't  do  a  thing  just  because  I 
think  it's  wrong — or  even  because  I  don't  at  this  mo- 
ment mean  to  do  it.  I  have  to  reckon  with  a  temper; 
others  had  better  reckon  with  it,  too." 

Alison  looked  at  me,  pursing  up  his  lips.  "  I  think 
that  she  points  out  a  real  danger." 

"  I'm  sure  she  does,"  I  rejoined.  "  And  you  must 
reckon  with  it." 

"  Yes,"  he  murmured,  his  eyes  again  searching  her 
face.  She  nodded  her  head  ever  so  slightly  at  him 
with  a  defiant  smile.  "  But  losing  your  temper 
oughtn't  to  be  relied  on  as  a  resource.  Reckon  with 
it  if  you  like — not  on  it,  Miss  Driver." 

Jenny  laughed  outright  at  that.  "  He  hits  me  hard 
— but  it  makes  no  difference,"  she  said  to  me.  "  The 
plan  stands."  She  turned  quickly  on  him:  "In  the 
end,  what  do  you  make  of  it?  "  She  stretched  out 
her  right  hand.  "  Are  even  good  things  soiled  if  they 
are  taken  from  that  hand?  " 

"  The  pity  of  it!  "  he  murmured,  with  a  soft  intona- 
tion of  profound  sorrow. 


340  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"The  child's  a  pearl.  Let  her  be  happy!  Is  the 
beauty  of  it  nothing  to  you?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  much — and  your  love  for  her  is  much." 
He  paused  a  moment.  "  And  perhaps  I  should  be 
overbold  to  speak  against  that  other  love  of  yours — 
now.  Maybe  it  lies  beyond  the  jurisdiction  committed 
to  us  here  on  earth." 

Jenny  was,  I  fear,  entirely  devoted  to  earth  and, 
at  that  moment,  to  arranging  her  own  bit  of  earth 
as  she  wanted  to  have  it.  She  gave  him  no  thanks 
for  what  was,  from  him,  a  very  considerable  conces- 
sion. Rather  she  fastened  on  his  softer  mood  as  af- 
fording her  an  opportunity. 

"  Then  you  oughtn't  to  be  against  me,"  she  urged. 

"  I'm  not  against  you.  This  is  not  my  ground — 
not  my  business." 

"  You  might  even  help  me."  He  looked  doubtful 
at  that.  "  Simply  in  one  way.  There's  one  little  thing 
you  can  do  easily,  though  it's  difficult  for  me.  For 
all  the  rest,  I  leave  you  to  do  anything  or  nothing, 
just  as  you  think  proper." 

"  What's  the  one  little  thing?  "  he  asked. 

"  Bring  Lord  Fillingford  and  Margaret  together. 
It's  very  easy — except  for  me — and  it  commits  you 
to  nothing.  Give  her  her  chance.  Anyhow,  none  of 
the  trouble's  her  fault,  is  it?  " 

"  There  doesn't  seem  much  harm  in  that." 

"  Give  him  no  hint  of  what  I've  said.  It  would  be 
so  much  better  if  the  idea  could  come  from  himself." 

"  Impossible!  "  he  cried. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said  thoughtfully.  "  He  seems 
to  be  very  frightened.  How  about  some  idea  of — the 


THE    ALTERNATIVE  341 

lesser  evil?  He'd  still  be  shocked — but  his  mind 
might  be  a  little  prepared." 

"  You're  altogether  too — well,  shall  I  say  diplo- 
matic?— for  me." 

"  Come,  come,"  I  interposed,  "  don't  do  the 
Church  injustice!" 

"  Let's  go  out,"  said  Jenny.  "  Wait  a  minute — I'll 
get  a  hat,  and  join  you  on  the  terrace.  I  expect  Mar- 
garet and  Amyas  are  still  there."  She  walked  out  of 
the  room  with  a  light  buoyant  tread.  Alison  turned 
to  me  with  a  bewildered  gesture  of  his  arms,  yet  with 
a  reluctant  smile  on  his  face. 

"  What  am  I  to  work  on?  I  don't  believe  the 
woman  has  any  conception  of  what  sin  means!  " 

"  She  has  a  considerable  conception  of  the  con- 
sequences of  her  actions." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  as  if  that  was  at  all  the  same 
thing!  And  what's  her  new  game?  What's  she  taking 
me  on  the  terrace  for?  " 

"  To  have  a  cup  of  tea,  I  suppose.  It's  nearly  half- 
past  five." 

"  I'll  never  give  her  credit  for  being  as  simple  as 
that!  "  He  was  disapproving,  but  good-natured — and 
altogether  occupied  with  Jenny  in  his  mind.  "  I  shall 
never  get  hold  of  her — I  once  thought  I  should.  A 
pagan — a  mere  pagan!  "  He  paused  again  and  added 
with  a  reluctant  admiration,  "  A  splendid  pagan!  " 

"  There  are  fifty  roads  to  town — and  rather  more 
to  heaven,"  I  quoted. 

"Who  said  that?" 

"  William  Mackworth  Praed — and  you  ought  to 
have  known  it." 


342  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  I  daresay  he  knew  the  roads  to  town,  Austin." 

"  In  both  cases  the  criticism  is  obvious — much  de- 
pends on  where  you  start  from." 

We  were  on  the  terrace  now.  At  the  other  end 
of  it  we  saw  Margaret  and  Lacey  walking  up  and 
down  together.  The  tea  table  was  deserted,  and 
probably  the  tea  was  cold;  we  were  neither  of  us 
thinking  about  it.  Alison  had  put  on  his  hat,  but  now 
he  bared  his  head  again  to  the  evening  breeze. 

"  Phew,  that  was  a  fight!  "  he  said.  "And  I  sup- 
pose I'm  beaten!  But  if  she  yields  to  that  temper 
of  hers,  I'll  have  no  more  to  do  with  her." 

V  But  if  she  doesn't — if  she  needn't? "  I  sug- 
gested. 

He  made  no  answer.  I  saw  his  eyes  wander  to  the 
shapely  couple  that  walked  up  and  down. 

"  Why  shouldn't  the  child  have  her  chance?  " 

"  You're  tempters  all  in  this  house!  "  he  declared. 

Margaret  and  Lacey  suddenly  came  toward  us — 
no,  toward  Jenny,  who  had  just  come  out  of  the 
house.  She  stood  there,  near  the  door,  quite  quietly 
— with  all  her  gift  of  serene  immobility  brought  into 
play.  There  was  no  signing  to  them,  no  beckoning: 
but  at  once,  out  of  the  midst  of  their  delighted  pre- 
occupation, they  came.  I  permitted  myself  a  discreet 
glance  at  Alison;  he  was  watching.  I  wondered 
whether  he  were  any  nearer  to  a  theory  of  why 
Jenny  had  proposed  that  we  should  come  out  on  the 
terrace. 

Margaret  Octon  ran  on  ahead  of  her  companion 
and  caught  hold  of  Jenny's  arm.  Lacey  came  up  a 
second  later.   I  saw  Jenny  give  him  a  smile  of  the 


THE    ALTERNATIVE  343 

fullest  understanding.  The  young  man  flushed  sud- 
denly, then  laughed  in  an  embarrassed  way. 

"  I  know  I've  been  here  an  awful  time.  I  thought 
you  were  never  coming  out,"  he  said. 

"The  time  seemed  so  long  till  I  came,  did  it?" 
asked  Jenny.  She  stooped  and  kissed  Margaret  on 
the  forehead.  The  girl  laughed — very  gently,  very 
happily.  Jenny  looked  at  Alison  across  the  few  feet 
that  divided  the  two  small  groups.  Her  look  was  an 
appeal  —  an  appeal  from  the  shy  happiness  on  the 
girl's  face  to  the  natural  man  that  was  beneath  Ali- 
son's canonicals.  "  Shan't  the  girl  have  her  chance?  " 
asked  Jenny's  eyes. 

Suddenly  Alison  left  my  side  and  walked  up  to 
her. 

'  I  must  go  now,"  he  said,  rather  hastily,  rather 
(to  tell  the  truth)  as  though  he  were  ashamed  of  him- 
self. "  I  think  I  can  manage  that  little  commission." 

She  moved  one  step  forward  to  meet  him.  "  I  shall 
be  very  grateful,"  she  told  him  in  her  low,  rich, 
steady  tones.  "  The  other  way  wouldn't  have  been 
nearly  so — convenient."  Her  bright  eyes  were  tri- 
umphant. "  Soon?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  can  manage  it  in  a  day  or  two  at  longest.  And 
now  good-by.  I  fear  I've  tired  you  with  all  my 
business." 

The  young  people  listened,  all  innocent  of  the 
covert  meanings. 

"Let's  not  be  tired  till  our  work's  done!"  said 
Jenny. 

She  risked  that  "  our  "  and  challenged  his  dissent. 
He  stood  swaying  between  reprobation  and  admira- 


344  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

tion,  between  forswearing  and  alliance,  between  sym- 
pathy and  repulsion.  She  had  so  much — yet  not  that 
without  which,  in  his  eyes,  all  else  was  in  the  end 
worthless. 

But  she  had  brought  him — of  her  subtlety  she  had 
brought  him — on  to  the  terrace.  For  no  cup  of  tea 
tolerably  stale!  For  nothing  stale — but  that  the  im- 
ploring, aye,  the  commanding,  unconscious  desire, 
the  unmeditated  appeal,  the  unmeant  urgency,  of 
Margaret's  heart  might  work.  "Are  you  human?" 
asked  Jenny's  eyes,  traveling  with  a  slow  meaning 
from  his  face  to  Margaret's. 

The  cunning  of  the  serpent — the  simplicity  of  the 
dove!  Ah,  dear  serpent,  what  had  you  in  your  heart 
save  to  make  your  dove  happy?  Another  thing — yes! 
The  dove  must  triumph — for  she  bore  Leonard's  es- 
cutcheon, and  must  bear  it  victorious  against  his  ene- 
mies. The  serpent  bade  the  dove  wing  her  happy  way! 

Might  not  the  dove  be  made  bearer  also  of  an  olive 
branch,  made  a  harbinger  of  peace?  That  was  the 
idea  which  Jenny  sought  to  put  in  Alison's  mind 
when  she  brought  him  on  to  the  terrace.  Could  not 
all  that  grace  and  joy  avail  to  blot  out  the  name  she 
bore?  It  was  only  a  name — a  thing  intangible — a 
name,  if  Jenny's  plan  prospered,  soon  to  be  deleted, 
buried  under  a  new  and  newly  significant  designa- 
tion. She  must  bring  memories  with  her — of  old 
wrong  and  old  humiliation?  Could  she  not  herself 
destroy  even  what  she  brought?  She  seemed  made 
to  do  it.  Who  could  bear  a  grudge  against  that 
simple  joyfulness,  who  resist  that  unconscious  plead- 
ing for  oblivion?  Alison  was  to  go  from  the  terrace 


THE    ALTERNATIVE  345 

with  a  new  zeal  for  the  commission  that  he  had  un- 
dertaken, to  go  with  his  cause  much  closer  to  his 
heart. 

While  he  was  still  there,  Dormer  whizzed  up  the 
drive  in  his  motor  car.  He  had  come  to  meet  Lacey 
at  Breysgate,  and  drive  him  over  to  Hingston  to 
dine  and  sleep.  Lacey  affected  Hingston  for  his  night 
quarters  more  than  ever  now — and  Dormer  generally 
fetched  him  from  Breysgate;  it  was  an  arrangement 
convenient  to  both  parties. 

Jenny  had  told  so  much  truth  that  she  was  inclined 
for  a  little  mischief.  She  greeted  the  newcomer  with 
coquettish  demureness,  marking,  with  a  smile  and  a 
glance  at  me,  Dormer's  ill-concealed  surprise  at  Ali- 
son's presence,  and  at  the  good  terms  on  which  he 
seemed  to  be  with  his  hostess.  Dormer  asked  for 
whisky  and  soda,  and  I  went  with  him  to  minister  to 
his  wants. 

"  Did  Lacey  bring  the  parson?  "  he  asked,  after  a 
first  eager  gulp. 

"  Oh,  no.  Alison  came  of  his  own  accord — came  to 
call,  you  know,"  I  answered. 

"  Did  he?  "  He  would  obviously  have  liked  to  ask 
more  questions.  "  That's  being  neighborly,  at  all 
events,"  he  ventured  to  comment,  with  a  covert  leer. 
"  We  shall  be  seeing  Fillingford — or  even  Lady 
Sarah — here  next!" 

"  More  unlikely  things  than  that  have  happened." 

"  That's  what  I  always  remember,"  he  remarked, 
nodding  sagaciously  over  his  long  tumbler.  "  What  I 
say  is — try  your  luck,  even  if  it  does  need  a  bit  of 
cheek." 


346  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

I  had  a  notion  that  Dormer  was  inclining  toward 
the  confidential. 

"  If  it  doesn't  come  off,  you're  no  worse  than  you 
were  before.  If  it  does,  there  you  are,  by  Jove!  " 
■  "  I  should  think  that  must  be  every  successful 
man's  philosophy.  But  what,  may  I  ask,  makes  this 
call  on  your  reserve  of  cheek,  Dormer? — which  will, 
I  make  no  doubt,  be  equal  to  it." 

"  Wait  and  see,"  he  answered,  with  a  pronounced 
wink.  Having  executed  this  operation,  his  eye  turned 
to  Lacey,  visible  through  the  window  of  the  smoking 
room  where  we  were.  "  There'll  be  a  row  at  Filling- 
ford  Manor  some  day  soon — that's  my  opinion." 

"  Let's  wait  and  see  about  that,  too,"  I  suggested 
mildly.  Now  he  was  trying  to  make  me  confidential. 

He  winked  again.  "  You're  a  pretty  safe  old  chap, 
Austin,"  he  was  good  enough  to  tell  me. 

When  we  returned  to  the  terrace,  Lacey  was  ready 
to  start  and,  with  a  look  at  his  watch,  Dormer  went 
up  to  Jenny  to  say  good-by.  During  our  brief  ab- 
sence Alison  had  departed — to  set  about  his  com- 
mission, as  I  hoped. 

"  I  say,  may  I  come  over  the  day  after  to-morrow? 
Shall  you  be  here?  "  Dormer  asked. 

"  The  day  after  to-morrow?  Thursday?  Yes,  I  shall 
be  delighted  to  see  you.  I  want  to  know  how  you're 
getting  on  in  those  negotiations  with  Mr.  Cartmell, 
you  know."  This  referred  to  those  farms  of  his — she 
had  by  now  settled  on  three — which  she  wanted  to 
round  off  her  frontier. 

Dormer  smiled  slyly  at  her.  "  All  right,  we'll  talk 
about  that,  too." 


THE    ALTERNATIVE  347 

"  Have  we  any  other  business?  "  she  asked,  lifting 
her  brows  in  feigned  surprise. 

"  Something  may  crop  up,"  he  answered  with  a 
laugh.  "Till  then,  Miss  Driver!" 

The  young  men  got  in  and  drove  off,  Margaret 
watching  and  waving  her  hand  as  they  went — a  salu- 
tation copiously  acknowledged  by  Lacey;  Dormer 
was  busy  with  his  handles. 

"  If  Mr.  Alison  is  prompt  with  his  commission, 
Thursday  may  be  a  busy  day,"  Jenny  remarked,  as 
she  sat  down  in  a  low  chair  and  lay  back  in  it  with 
an  air  of  energy  relaxed.  Sitting  down  by  her,  I  be- 
gan to  smoke  my  pipe.  Margaret  passed  us,  smiling, 
and  went  into  the  house. 

"  That  was  a  fight,"  said  Jenny  presently,  "  rather 
a  stiff  one — but  we've  got  our  stiffest  still  to  come. 
Lord  Fillingford  will  fight;  I  must  move  all  my  bat- 
talions against  him.  I  shall  bribe — perhaps  I  shall 
still  have  to  bully."  She  sighed.  For  the  moment,  the 
afternoon's  struggle  done,  a  weariness  was  upon  her. 
She  sat  silent  again  for  a  long  while,  her  brows  knit 
in  meditation  or  in  sorrow. 

"  I  won't  tell  anybody  else,"  at  last  she  said.  "  I 
have  told  you,  because  I  wouldn't  have  you  live  here 
on  false  pretenses — because  you're  my  friend.  I  told 
Mr.  Alison  to-day  for  the  reason  you  heard.  I'll  tell 
nobody  else.  The  old  attitude  toward  the  rest!  It's 
really  no  use  telling — I  can't  tell  it  right;  I  can't  put 
it  into  words.  For  myself  even  I  can't  recover  the 
past — can't  quite  see  how  I  did  it — what  woman  I 
was  then,  or  how  that  woman  stands  to  the  woman 
I  am  now.  A  mist  has  come  between  the  two." 


348  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  vex  yourself  no  more!  Let 
the  dead  bury  its  dead.  Alison  has  upset  you." 

"  I'm  in  the  mist — but  Leonard  isn't.  He  grows 
clearer  and  clearer,  and  "  (she  smiled  faintly)  "  larger 
and  larger.  His  great  kind  loving-roughness  fills  all 
my  vision.  I  suppose  it  filled  all  my  vision  then,  and 
so — it  happened!"  She  turned  to  me  with  a  quick 
question.  "  Do  you  think  I'm  right  in  the  determina- 
tion I've  come  to  about  myself?  " 

•'  I  should  be  far  from  holding  it  obligatory  either 
on  you  or  on  anyone  else.  Good  things  pass  by — and 
things  indifferent — and  things  bad.  The  disturbance 
passes  off  the  face  of  life's  stream;  the  stream  pur- 
sues its  course.  There's  no  duty  on  you,  in  my  opin- 
ion. Yet  I  think  that  for  yourself  you're  right." 

"  I'm  glad  you  do,"  she  told  me.  "  At  that  we'll 
leave  it — a  fixed  point!  " 

'  Unless  Lord  Fillingford  is  very  obstinate?  " 

As  she  looked  at  me,  a  smile  broke  slowly  over  her 
face.  "  From  the  way  you  say  that,  I  think  you  sus- 
pect me  of  having  indulged  in  a  little  bluff  this 
afternoon.  But  I  think  I  was  honest.  I  don't  mean  to 
do  it,  I  should  hate  doing  it — but  they  might  make 
me  angry  enough." 

"  I  don't  believe  you'd  ever  go  through  with  it.  We 
should  have  flight  again!  " 

"  Too  awful!  "  sighed  Jenny,  frowning,  yet  almost 
smiling.  She  smiled  frankly  the  next  moment,  as  she 
turned  to  me  and  laid  her  hand  on  my  arm.  "  Do  let's 
agree — you  and  I — that  I'm  quite  incapable  of  it  and 
was  blurring  most  audaciously!  " 

"  We'll  agree  to  that  with  all  my  heart." 


THE    ALTERNATIVE  349 

"So  you  spoil  me — so  you  go  on  spoiling  me!  " 
she  said  very  gently. 

I  went  down  the  hill  to  my  own  house,  leaving  her 
still  sitting  there,  a  stately  solitary  figure,  revolving 
many  thoughts  in  the  depths  of  her  mind. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

ON    ALL    GROUNDS RIDICULOUS! 

A  LISON  was  prompt  as  could  be  wished.  The 
I  \  next  morning  we  received  our  orders.  Mar- 
X  JL  garetwas  to  go  to  tea  with  him  at  the  Church 
House,  escorted  either  by  Chat  or  by  me,  as  Jenny 
preferred.  He  expected  that  some  business  would 
bring  Fillingford  there  about  five — and  so  the  en- 
counter; for  the  result  of  it,  he  added,  he  took  no  sort 
of  responsibility. 

"  You  must  go,  of  course,"  Jenny  decided.  "  Chat 
wouldn't  be  able  to  tell  me  anything  about  what 
really  happened." 

I  had  to  see  Cartmell  earlier  in  the  afternoon,  so 
arranged  to  meet  Margaret  at  the  appointed  place. 
She  knew  nothing  of  Fillingford's  being  expected, 
but  she  had  taken  a  strong  liking  to  Alison  and  was 
greatly  pleased  with  her  invitation — only  surprised 
that  Jenny  should  not  be  going,  too. 

"  Oh,  I  told  him  I  couldn't,"  said  Jenny.  Let  us 
call  that  a  diplomatic  evasion. 

Sir  John  Aspenick  came  into  Cartmell's  office 
while  I  was  there.  He  had  heard  rumors  of  the  pro- 
posed sale  of  Oxley  Lodge  and  its  estate  by  Bertram 
Ware — and  to  Jenny.  Here  was  legitimate  matter  of 
inquiry   and   interest  for  the   county.   Aspenick  was 

35° 


ON    ALL    GROUNDS— RIDICULOUS!     351 

much   interested;  but  he  did  not   seem  particularly- 
pleased. 

'  The  thing  is  hardly  public  property  yet,"  said  old 
Cartmell,  "  but  I'm  sure  Miss  Driver  wouldn't  mind 
its  being  mentioned  to  such  an  old  friend  as  you  are, 
Sir  John.  Yes,  it's  settled.  Ware  sells  and  she  buys 
— the  whole  thing,  lock,  stock,  and  barrel,  and  at  a 
pretty  stiff  price,  too — to  say  nothing  of  an  extra 
five  hundred  for  early  possession." 

'  Why  does  she  do  it?  "  demanded  Aspenick,  sit- 
ting on  the  office  table  and  smoking  a  cigar. 

"  Ah!  I  can  sometimes  see  what  a  woman  is  doing 
by  using  my  eyes,  and  I  can  sometimes  see  what  she's 
going  to  do  by  using  my  head;  but  why  she  does  it 
or  why  she's  going  to  do  it — that's  quite  beyond 
me,"  said  Cartmell. 

"  It's  a  pretty  place,"  I  urged.  "  Good  house — nice 
sized  sort  of  place,  too." 

"  But  who's  going  to  live  in  it — unless  you  are, 
Austin?  " 

I  modestly  disclaimed  any  pretensions — and  any 
desire  —  to  be  housed  so  handsomely.  Sir  John 
frowned  in  perplexity.  "  Seems  to  me  she  wants  the 
whole  county!  "  he  observed. 

'  Old  Nicholas  Driver  did,  anyhow,"  said  Cart- 
mell with  a  laugh.  "  Oxley  wasn't  enough  for  him! 
He  wanted  Fillingford  Manor — you  remember,  Sir 
John?  " 

'  Well,  that  didn't  come  off,"  said  Aspenick  dryly; 
I  fancied  that  he  hinted  it  had  not  "  come  off  "  with 
old  Nicholas's  daughter  either — so  far.  "  Does  she 
mean  to  let  the  house?  " 


352  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  I  really  don't  know  anything  about  it." 

"  Well,  she'll  be  a  good  neighbor,  I  suppose.  She 
can  afford  to  keep  her  fences  in  order,  and  she  won't 
put  up  wire.  More  than  I  can  say  for  Ware!  His 
fences  were  a  disgrace,  and  he's  been  threatening  us 
with  wire — that's  only  since  we  wouldn't  have  him 
as  candidate,  I  admit." 

"  We'll  answer  for  the  fences  and  the  wire,"  Cart- 
mell  promised  him  cheerfully. 

"  But,  in  spite  of  his  being  reassured  as  to  these 
vital  matters,  Aspenick's  brow  was  still  clouded. 

"  You're  her  man,  of  course,  Cartmell,  but  I  don't 
mind  saying  to  you  that  these  new  people  coming  in 
and  buying  up  everything  give  me  a  sort  of  feeling 
of  being  crowded.  Do  you  know  what  I  mean?  " 

"  Can't  keep  things  just  as  they  were  six  hundred 
years  ago,  Sir  John,"  said  Cartmell. 

Aspenick  was  not  mollified  by  this  tactful  refer- 
ence to  his  long  descent.  "  Hustling,  I  call  it!  I  sup- 
pose you'll  be  wanting  Overington  next?  " 

We  both  repudiated  the  idea  of  laying  profane 
hands  on  Overington's  ancient  glories.  "  We'll  leave 
you  in  possession,  Sir  John.  But  we  may  take  just 
a  slice  off  Hingston,  if  Mr.  Dormer's  agreeable." 

"  Everybody  knows  that  Dormer's  outrunning  the 
constable,  and  I  daresay  you'll  get  all  you  want  from, 
him — but  not  an  acre  of  mine,  mind  you! ': 

"  Don't  cry  out  before  you're  hurt,  Sir  John," 
Cartmell  advised  him  good-humoredly.  But  when  he 
was  gone  he  said  to  me  with  a  shrewd  nod,  "  Well, 
we  all  know  why  he's  so  precious  sulky!  " 

Aspenick's  want  of  warmth  about  our  new  acquisi- 


ON    ALL    GROUNDS— RIDICULOUS!  353 

tions  (Cartmell  and  I  always  said  "  our  "  when  we 
meant  Jenny's)  no  doubt  had  a  personal  cause — 
though  it  was  not  hard  to  appreciate  also  his  class- 
feeling.  The  property  of  Oxley  lay  full  between 
Overington  and  Fillingford  Manor;  but  since  her  re- 
turn Jenny  had  severed  Aspenick's  house  from  Fill- 
ingford's  in  another  way  than  that.  No  more  was 
heard  about  Lacey  and  Eunice. 

Cartmell  was  no  gossip  and  a  man  of  few  questions 
unless  about  a  horse;  yet  now  he  turned  his  rubicund 
face  toward  me  with  an  air  of  humorous  puzzle. 
"Any  news  from  the  house?" 

"  Nothing  particular — just  at  present,"  I  answered. 

"  I've  looked  at  it  this  way,  and  I've  looked  at  it 
that  way,  and  I'm  flummoxed.  Why  early  possession 
— and  five  hundred  paid  for  it?  She  can't  want  the 
house — and  as  business  it's  ridiculous.  But  you  know 
her  way — '  My  wish,  Mr.  Cartmell,  and  please  no 
words  about  it! '  " 

"  She  generally  has  a  purpose — she  doesn't  act  at 
random,"  I  remarked. 

"A  purpose!  Lord  love  you,  half  a  dozen!  And, 
what's  more,  I  believe  you  generally  know  them. 
But,  as  she  knows,  you're  devilish  safe.  There  it  is! 
I  could  make  her  a  really  rich  woman  if  she'd  let 
me — but  with  money  thrown  away  like  that,  and  her 
Institute,  and  what  not — !  "  He  looked  as  gloomy  as 
if  Jenny  were  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy  and  all  our 
livelihoods  taking  wings. 

'*  I'll  tell  you  one  thing.  I  think  you'll  have  to  open 
the  purse-strings  wider  still  before  many  days  are 
out." 


354  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

He  looked  at  me  very  sharply.  "  The  marriage 
coming  off?  And  a  big  settlement?  Well,  that'd  be 
right  enough.  All  the  same,  I  can't  say  I  like  it, 
Austin.  Fillingford's  son!  Doesn't  it  stick  in  your 
throat  a  bit?" 

"  I  said  I'd  tell  you  one  thing.  I  didn't  say  I'd  tell 
you  two  or  three  more." 

;<  All  the  town  says  it.  My  word,  you  should  hear 
Mrs.  Jepps!  My  wife  says  it's  something  terrible." 
He  twinkled  in  amusement  again.  "  Lord,  it's  some- 
times worth  being  a  bit  staggered  yourself  just  to  see 
how  much  worse  the  thing  takes  other  people!  " 

"  Mrs.  Jepps  and  the  rest  of  the  town  had  better 
wait  a  little.  It's  a  pity  to  waste  good  indignation." 

"  Aye,  and  folks  hate  being  cheated  of  a  scandal 
they've  made  up  their  minds  to." 

"  Scandal's  a  hard  word  in  the  case  that  you're 
thinking  of." 

"  I've  no  great  stock  of  words  outside  of  a  con- 
veyance of  land — there  I  can  use  as  many  as  any  man 
except  counsel.  But,  to  tell  the  truth,  it  goes  against 
my  stomach." 

"  It  sticks  in  your  throat!  And  it  goes  against 
your  stomach!  And  all  this  before  you've  been  even 
asked  to  swallow  it!  Aren't  you  considerably  prema- 
ture? " 

'  You  think  there's  a  chance  she  won't — ?  "  His 
manner  was  openly  eager. 

"  Yes — but  hold  your  tongue,  and  pay  up  your  five 
hundred  for  early  possession." 

"  Upon  my  soul,  Austin,  I  never  more  than  half 
believed  it.  But  when  everybody  buzzes  a  thing  into 


ON    ALL    GROUNDS— RIDICULOUS!  355 

a  man's  ears — and  his  own  wife  first  among  them — 
and  he  sees  no  other  meaning  of  things,  why " 

"  The  best  of  us  are  likely  to  give  in — yes!  Well, 
I've  got  another  appointment — at  Alison's." 

"Alison's?  What  have  you  got  to  do  with  Alison 
these  days?  " 

"  Come  now,  does  your  position  interfere  with 
your  friendships?  What  have  you  to  do  with  Mrs. 
Jepps?" 

'  It  was  my  wife.  I  never  see  the  old  witch." 

"  I've  no  wife — so  I  have  to  face  the  devil  on  my 
own  account." 

From  my  talk  with  Cartmell  I  was  the  more  anx- 
ious for  the  success  of  my  other  appointment.  That 
might  help  to  free  Jenny  from  the  danger  of  being 
made  so  angry  as  to  do  what  she  hated  to  do,  and 
what  faithful  old  Cartmell  could  not  stomach.  If  any- 
thing could  drive  her  to  it,  it  would  be  a  slight,  a 
harshness,  a  rudeness,  toward  Margaret.  How  she 
had  flared  up  at  Alison's  objections!  If  Margaret 
were  spurned,  to  Jenny's  mind  Octon  also  was  again 
spurned.  Then  the  temper  would  still  have  to  be 
reckoned  with — the  temper  under  disappointment  as 
well  as  wrath;  for  Jenny  built  upon  this  interview. 

Margaret  was  punctual  at  Alison's — she  came 
spanking  up  in  the  carriage  with  the  big  gray  horses 
the  moment  after  I  had  reached  the  door — and  we 
went  together  into  the  sparely  furnished  room  where 
he  lived  and  did  his  work.  He  was  no  bookman — his 
walls  looked  bare;  his  very  chairs  meant  labor  rather 
than  rest.  And  he  was  no  student — "  My  convictions 
from  God,  my  orders  from  the  Bishop,  my  time  to 


356  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

the  ministry,"  he  had  once  said  to  me — adding  then, 
with  the  touch  of  humor  that  so  often  softened  his 
rigorous  zeal — "  I  sometimes  think  one's  Bishop  is 
the  final  trial  of  faith,  Austin."  Our  Bishop  was  a 
moderate  man,  highly  diplomatic,  given  to  quoting 
St.  Paul  as  an  example  of  adaptability.  "  All  things 
to  all  men  if  by  chance — "  So  far  as  the  chance  lay 
there,  his  lordship  never  missed  it. 

But  to  see  Alison  with  Margaret  obliterated  any 
criticism  left  possible  by  his  affectionate  nature  and 
(may  I  add?)  his  ingenuous  consciousness  of  pos- 
sessing absolute  and  exclusive  truth.  He  had  so  ten- 
der a  reverence  for  her  youth  and  receptivity — and 
with  it  such  a  high  gentlemanly  purpose  that  she 
should  not  think  that  he  held  her  either  too  young  for 
courtesy  or  too  receptive  for  intellectual  respect.  He 
had  great  manners,  born  of  a  loving  heart.  Why,  after 
all,  should  he  worry  about  reading  books?  Guesses 
about  appearances — that's  books — from  novels  up  to 
philosophy.  But  how  pleasant  is  the  guessing! 

She  became  to  him  at  once  a  delighted  disciple. 
Here  was  no  such  discrepancy  of  heart  and  head  as 
divided  him  from  Jenny — no  appeal  to  another 
standard — no  obstinate  defense  against  his  attacks 
behind  the  ramparts  of  her  nature.  Margaret's  nature 
was  his  to  mold — small  blame  to  him  if  the  thought 
crossed  his  mind  that  it  would  be  to  the  good  if  she 
were  set  in  a  high  place — if  such  a  light  burned  un- 
der no  bushel  of  obscurity! 

Fillingford  was  announced.  Alison  gave  me  a 
quick  glance,  as  though  to  say  "  Now  for  it!  " — and 
the  grave  stern  man  stood  on  the  threshold  of  the 


ON    ALL    GROUNDS— RIDICULOUS!  357 

room.  I  had  not  seen  him  without  his  hat  for  a  long 
while;  he  had  grown  gray:  his  figure,  too,  was  more 
set;  he  was  indisputably,  even  emphatically,  middle- 
aged.  His  face  was  more  lined  and  looked  careworn. 
His  eyes  fell  first  on  me,  and  there  was  hesitation  in 
his  manner.  Alison  went  quickly  to  him  and  greeted 
him. 

'  We've  been  having  a  little  tea-party,  but  I  shall 
soon  be  ready  for  business.  Austin  you  know.  This  is 
my  friend  Miss  Octon." 

Fillingford  came  forward — slowly,  but  with  no 
change  of  expression.  He  bowed  gravely  to  Mar- 
garet, and  gave  me  his  hand  with  a  limp  pressure. 
"  I  hope  you're  well,  Mr.  Austin?  We've  met  very 
little  of  late." 

Margaret  was  regarding  him  with  curiosity  com- 
plicated by  alarm.  This  was  Amyas  Lacey's  father — 
and  Amyas  had  given  the  impression  that  his  father 
was  formidable;  there  was  a  knowledge  in  her  own 
heart  which  might  well  make  him  seem  formidable 
to  her,  even  had  his  bearing  been  far  more  cor- 
dial. 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  come  too  soon,"  he  said.  "  I  inter- 
rupt your  party." 

"  Sit  down  with  us  and  have  a  cup  of  tea — Miss 
Octon  will  give  you  one." 

He  did  not  refuse  the  invitation,  and  sat  down  op- 
posite Margaret.  She  ministered  to  him  with  a  grace- 
ful assiduity,  offering  her  timid  services  with  smiles 
that  begged  a  welcome  for  them.  He  remained 
gravely  courteous,  watching  her  with  apparent  in- 
terest. 


358  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  I  hope  Miss  Driver  is  well?  "  he  said  to  me  with 
a  carefully  measured  civility. 

Very  wisely  Alison  did  not  leave  the  pair  he  had 
brought  together  to  entertain  one  another.  Plunging 
again  into  the  description  of  his  work  which  had  so 
won  Margaret's  interest  before,  he  enabled  Filling- 
ford  to  see  the  gay  charm  which  he  himself  could 
not  elicit.  Then,  branching  off  to  herself,  he  got  her 
to  describe  the  wonderful  delights  of  her  new  ex- 
istence— her  horse,  her  dog,  the  little  room  that 
Jenny  had  given  her  for  her  own  snuggery  at  the  top 
of  the  house.  "  I  can  see  your  chimneys  from  the 
window!  ':  she  told  Fillingford  with  a  sudden  turn 
toward  him,  followed  by  a  lively  blush — how  came 
her  interest  in  those  chimneys  to  be  so  great?  Fear 
kept  her  from  Lacey's  name;  some  instinct,  I  think, 
from  more  than  casual  reference  to  the  donor  of  all 
the  fine  gifts  which  she  catalogued  and  praised;  little 
reference  used  to  be  made  to  Fillingford  at  Breys- 
gate,  and  perhaps  she  had  caught  the  cue  thus  given. 

"  But  I  haven't  got  enough  work  to  do,"  she  com- 
plained gayly  to  Alison.  "  And  if  you  would  let  me 
come  and  work  for  you " 

"  I'll  find  you  plenty  of  work  to  do,"  he  promised. 
"  Lots  of  wicked  old  women  to  visit!  "  He  smiled  at 
us.  "  I  might  try  you  on  the  wicked  young  men,  too," 
he  added.  "  There  are  lots  of  them  about.  But  plenty 
of  very  good  fellows,  too,  if  only  we  could  really 
get  hold  of  them." 

"  Try  her  on  Mrs.  Jepps,"  Fillingford  suggested 
dryly;  yet  the  smallest  unbending,  the  least  hint  of 
a  joke,  from  him  seemed  something  gained. 


ON    ALL    GROUNDS— RIDICULOUS!  359 

"That's  the  old  lady  with  the  fat  horses,  isn't  it? 
She  looks  very  kind  and  nice." 

"Hum!'  said  Alison.  Filling-ford  gave  a  wintry 
smile.  '  Mrs.  Jepps  and  I  are  considered  the  two 
ogres  of  the  neighborhood,"  he  said. 

Her  little  hand  darted  impulsively  across  the  table 
toward  him,  and  was   as  quickly  drawn   back — one 
of  her  ventures,    followed   by   her  merry   confusion. 
'You!  Oh,  nonsense!  I  don't  believe  that!" 

"  Ah,  you  haven't  heard  all  the  stories  about 
me!" 

"  I've  only  heard  that  you're  very — really  very 
kind  and — and  just."  She  was  summoning  all  her 
courage;  she  was  full  of  deprecation  and  appeal. 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

She  cast  a  look  of  dismay  at  me,  and  I  came  to  her 
rescue.  "  Your  son,  of  course,  Lord  Fillingford.  We 
see  him  sometimes  at  Breysgate." 

''  I  know  you  do."  He  shot  out  the  words  and  shut 
his  lips  close  after  them. 

She  looked  distressed  and  rather  puzzled;  after 
thawing  a  little,  he  had  relapsed  into  frost  at  the  first 
mention  of  his  son.  Alison  seemed  to  think  a  diver- 
sion desirable. 

'  Before  you  go,  I  should  like  to  show  you  our 
chapel.  We  have  a  little  one  of  our  own  here.  We  use 
it  in  the  early  mornings  sometimes,  and  for  prayers 
after  supper." 

She  jumped  at  the  proposal,  both  for  its  own  sake, 
I  think,  and  for  a  refuge  from  her  embarrassment. 

'  We'll  be  back  directly,"  said  Alison,  as  they  left 
Fillingford  and  myself  together. 


360  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Fillingford  sat  in  silence  for  some  moments.  Then 
he  said  slowly,  "  I  didn't  know  that  your  newcomer 
at  Breysgate  was  so  attractive." 

Jenny  had  not  reckoned  on  my  being  left  alone 
with  him.  I  had  no  instructions,  and  had  to  choose 
my    own    course.    "  I    thought    that   perhaps    Lacey 
.  would  have  told  you  about  her?  " 

He  looked  me  in  the  face  with  his  heavy  deliberate 
gaze.  "  We  don't  often  speak  of  his  visits  to  Breys- 
gate." He  paused  and  then  added,  with  something  of 
restrained  vehemence  in  his  tone,  "  I  don't  care  to 
ask  either  the  number  or  the  object  of  his  visits — and 
he  hasn't  volunteered  any  information  to  me  on  either 
point." 

"  His  visits  are  frequent,"  I  remarked.  "  As  to 
their  object " 

"  I  don't  think  we  need  discuss  that — you  and  I, 
Mr.  Austin." 

"  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  we  could  neither  of 
us  do  more  than  guess  at  it." 

For  a  moment  he  lost  his  self-control.  "  I  hope  to 
Heaven  my  guess  is  wrong — that's  all,"  he  said 
hotly. 

Surprised  out  of  reserve,  he  leaned  forward  toward 
me,  with  a  sudden  look  of  eagerness  in  his  eyes.  "  I 
should  like  to  know  what  you  mean  by  that — if 
you're  at  liberty  to  tell  me." 

"  I'd  sooner  not.  It  would  come  better  from  your 
son,  I  think." 

"  I  prefer  not  to  talk  to  my  son  about  the  matter 
just  now.  I  might  wrong  him.  I  have  many  worries 
just    now — business    and   others — and   I    don't   trust 


ON    ALL    GROUNDS— RIDICULOUS!  361 

myself  to  discuss  it  with  him  with  all  the  calmness 
which  I  should  desire." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can  do  no  more  than  venture  to  ad- 
vise you  not  to  come  to  any  conclusion  prema- 
turely." 

He  broke  out  again;  it  was  evident  that  he  was 
living  under  a  strain  which  taxed  his  endurance 
sorely.  "  But  Amyas  is  always  there!  And  she !  " 

The  sound  of  Alison's  voice  came  from  the  hall. 
"Hush!  They're  just  coming  back.  You  must  wait 
and  see." 

A  light  broke  over  his  face.  "  You  can't  possibly 
mean  that  it's  this  girl?  "  There  was  undoubted  re- 
lief in  his  tone — but  utter  surprise,  too,  and  even 
contempt.  "  Oh,  but  that's  on  all  grounds  utterly 
ridiculous!  " 

They  were  in  the  room  again.  "  Don't  say  so,  don't 
say  so,"  I  had  just  time  to  whisper. 

Margaret  came  in,  laughing  and  merry,  recovered 
from  her  confusion,  delighted  with  the  chapel,  she 
and  Alison  one  another's  slaves.  While  she  worshiped 
him,  she  had  almost  got  to  ordering  him  about;  she 
laughed  at  her  own  airs,  and  he  industriously  hu- 
mored them.  They  were  a  pretty  sight  together.  The 
grave  careworn  man  at  my  side  watched  them,  as  I 
thought,  with  a  closer  interest.  But  it  was  time  for 
us  to  go — Lord  Fillingford's  business  had  been  long 
awaiting — and  Margaret  began  to  make  her  fare- 
wells, extracting  from  Alison  a  promise  that  she 
should  come  again  soon,  and  that  he  would  come 
again  soon  to  Breysgate.  I  think  that  this  was  the 
first    Fillingford   had    heard   of   his    having   been    at 


362  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Breysgate  at  all;  his  eyes  looked  wary  at  the 
news. 

Margaret  came  to  him.  "  Good-by,  Lord  Filling- 
ford,"  she  said  with  shy  friendliness. 

He  looked  intently  at  her.  "  I'm  glad  to  have  met 
a  friend  of  my  son's,"  he  said  gravely.  She  blushed 
again;  he  turned  to  me  with  brows  knit  and  eyes  full 
of  brooding  question. 

On  the  way  home  Margaret  was  silent  for  a  while; 
then  she  asked,  "  Did  Lord  Fillingford  know  my 
father?  " 

"  Yes,  he  knew  him  slightly." 

"  Were  they  friends?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  don't  think  they  were,  particularly. 
Not  very  congenial,  I  fancy." 

"  No,  they  wouldn't  be,"  she  agreed.  "  Father 
would  have  thought  him  dull  and  pompous,  wouldn't 
he?  But  I  think  I  should  get  to  like  him  and  " — she 
smiled  audaciously — "  I  believe  I  could  make  him 
like  me.  He  looks  sad,  though,  poor  man!  Though  I 
suppose  he's  got  everything!  ': 

"  A  good  many  worries  included,  I  think,  Mar- 
garet." 

"  He  spoke  of  Lord  Lacey  as  if  he  was  fond  of 
him."  The  smile  lingered  on  her  lips.  I  think  that  she 
was  day-dreaming  of  how,  if  he  were  fond  of  Lacey, 
he  would  be  fond  of  what  Lacey  loved,  and  that  so 
she  might  soothe  him  over  his  worries  and  take  the 
lines  out  of  his  painful  brow.  "  Anyhow  I'm  very  glad 
I've  met  him." 

I  was  glad  of  that,  too — on  the  whole.  The  in- 
terview had  gone  as  well  as  could  be  expected.  Mar- 


ON    ALL    GROUNDS— RIDICULOUS!  363 

garet  had  won  no  such  sudden  and  complete  victory 
as  had  attended  the  beginning  of  her  acquaintance 
with  Alison.  Fillingford  was  not  the  man  to  yield  a 
triumph  like  that;  he  was  far  too  slow  and  wary  in 
his  feelings,  too  suspicious  and  afraid  of  efforts  to 
approach  him;  he  had,  besides,  a  personal  grudge 
against  Breysgate  that  must  needs  go  deeper  than 
Alison's  enforced  but  reluctant  disapproval  of  the 
mistress  of  that  house.  His  words  had  not  been 
encouraging — "on  all  grounds  utterly  ridiculous!" 
Yet  there  had  been  kindness  in  his  grave  tones  when 
he  told  her  that  he  was  glad  to  have  met  a  friend 
of  his  son's.  I  wondered  whether  Jenny  would  be 
content  with  this  somewhat  mixed  result — and  what 
she  would  say  to  the  share  I  had  taken  in  the  inter- 
view. 

I  got  no  chance  of  making  my  report  to  her  till 
late  at  night,  for  Cartmell  came  to  dinner — to  talk 
business — and  the  two  were  busy  discussing  Oxley 
Lodge.  Cartmell  was  still  sore  about  the  price,  espe- 
cially sore  about  that  five  hundred  pounds  to  satisfy 
a  mysterious  whim  for  early  possession.  But  Jenny 
was  radiant  over  her  new  acquisition,  and  full  of 
merriment  at  the  story  of  Aspenick's  sulky  com- 
ments. 

'  Really  I  think  they've  every  right  to  hate  me — 
and  I  suppose  they  do.  But  I  can't  stand  still  just  be- 
cause the  Aspenicks  have  stood  still  for  six  hundred 
years,  can  I?  Anyhow  I  think  he'll  be  quite  safe  about 
the  wire.  His  new  neighbors  will  probably  be  hunt- 
ing people  themselves." 

Cartmell    pricked    up    his    ears.    "  Hunting    peo- 


364  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

pie,    will    they?   Well,    that's    good.    I    didn't   know 
who " 


"  No  more  do  I  yet — exactly,"  she  laughed,  ob- 
viously enjoying  his  baffled  curiosity,  and  casting  a 
glance  across  at  me  for  my  sympathy  in  the  joke. 
"  But  I'll  have  people  of  a  good  class,  Mr.  Cartmell 
— no  one  to  offend  his  high  nobility!  No  tradesman's 
son  at  Oxley!  Breysgate  is  bad  enough!"  Her  eyes 
dwelt  for  a  moment  on  Margaret.  "  And  Margaret 
tells  me  that  she's  made  a  conquest  of  Mr.  Alison, 
and,  as  a  consequence,  is  going  in  for  all  manner  of 
good  works." 

Cartmell  did  not  follow  the  connection  of  her 
thoughts,  and  she  laughed  again  at  that. 

"  I'm  quite  serious  about  it,  Jenny,"  Margaret  pro- 
tested. 

"  Of  course  you  are,  my  dear,  I'm  very  glad  of  it. 
And  I  believe  it  would  appeal  even  to  Lady  As- 
penick!  " 

At  last  we  were  alone  together — just  before  I  said 
good  night. 

"  Margaret  has  told  me  some  of  her  impressions. 
What  are  yours?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  think  that,  on  the  whole,  we  did  fairly  well.  I 
also  think  that  Margaret  and  I  between  us  pretty 
well  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag." 

"  Oh,  you  did!  How  was  the  animal  liked?  " 

"  It  was  pronounced  ridiculous — on  all  grounds 
ridiculous!  " 

"  Was  it?  We  shall  see."  Jenny  looked  dangerous. 

"  But  all  the  same  it  was  thought  better  than — the 
fox." 


ON    ALL    GROUNDS— RIDICULOUS!    365 

"Ah!"  she  cried  eagerly.  "Better  than  the 
fox!"  Her  eyes  sparkled.  "Tell  me  all  you  can  re- 
member." 

I  told  her  my  tale,  not  forgetting  what  had  passed 
between  Fillingford  and  myself  when  we  were  alone. 

"  Not  so  bad!  I  think  we'll  go  ahead  now!  "  said 
Jenny. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

A    CHANCE    FOR    THE    ROMANTIC 

ALL  was  as  ready  as  all  could  be  made.  The 
I  \  plans  were  laid,  the  approaches  prepared, 
X  A-  the  battalions  marshaled.  For  so  much  a  com- 
mander must  wait — a  good  one  waits  no  longer.  We 
went  ahead.  The  Thursday  which  Jenny  had  fore- 
casted as  likely  to  be  busy  turned  out  to  be  busy  in 
fact.  One  thing  happened  for  which  she  gave  the 
word — another  which,  as  I  am  persuaded,  did  not 
surprise  her  very  much.  It  had  to  come — it  had  bet- 
ter be  over  and  done  with.  In  all  likelihood  she  gave 
the  word  for  this  second  thing  also. 

How  were  these  words  given?  Ah,  there  I  am  out 
of  my  depth.  In  our  relations  to  the  other  sex  we 
men  are  naturally  on  the  aggressive.  The  man  pur- 
sued of  woman  exists  no  doubt — but  as  an  abnor- 
mality— a  queer  by-product  of  a  civilization  intent 
on  many  things  non-natural.  The  normal  man  is  on 
the  attack,  and  ignorant,  by  consequence,  of  the 
minutiae  of  the  science  of  defense.  Whether  the  in- 
tent be  surrender,  or  whether  it  be  that  the  moment 
has  come  for  a  definitive  repulse  of  the  main  attack, 
there  are,  no  doubt,  preliminary  operations.  Scouts 
are  called  in,  pickets  withdrawn,  skirmishes  retired; 

366 


A   CHANCE   FOR   THE    ROMANTIC      367 

all  these  have  served  their  function — have  given  in- 
formation, have  foretold  the  attack,  have  felt  the 
strength  of  the  opposing  forces,  and  held  them  in 
check  while  the  counsels  of  the  defense  were  taken 
and  its  measures  perfected.  The  order  is  issued — Let 
them  come  on — and  on  they  come,  to  their  triumph 
or  their  overthrow.  But  all  this  is  woman's  campaign- 
ing— to  be  dimly  understood  in  its  outlines,  vaguely 
grasped  in  its  general  principles;  but  how  precisely 
those  preliminary  operations  are  performed  man, 
when  he  has  the  best  opportunity  of  discovering,  is 
generally  too  flurried  to  observe  nicely,  too  deeply 
engaged  in  developing  his  attack  to  see,  more  than 
half  blindly,  the  maneuvers  that  allow  him  an  open 
field  for  it. 

Somehow  then,  on  that  Thursday,  Jenny  offered 
battle — and  on  two  fronts.  She  threw  her  ally  Mar- 
garet open  to  Lacey's  assault;  she  accepted,  on  her 
own  account,  a  direct  attack  from  Dormer.  She 
wished  the  offensive  operations  to  be  practically  si- 
multaneous, and  substantially  achieved  the  object. 
One  took  place  before  four  in  the  afternoon — the 
other  not  later  than  nine  o'clock  at  night. 

Keenly  recognizing  the  fact  that  I  was  not  wanted 
at  the  Priory — I  am  not  sure  that  Jenny's  pointed 
remark  that  she  would  be  glad  to  see  me  "  after 
dinner  "  did  not  assist  the  recognition — I  remained 
in  my  own  quarters  after  returning  from  our  couple 
of  hours'  morning  work.  I  rather  thought  that  I 
might  be  called  into  action  again  later  on,  but  I  was 
not  concerned  in  the  present  operations. 

At  five  in  the  afternoon  Lacey  came  to  me — in  a 


368  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

state  of  the  greatest  agitation.  He  just  strode  in, 
without  asking  any  leave,  and  plumped  himself  down 
by  my  hearthstone.  His  eyes  were  very  bright,  his 
hands  and  legs  seemed  quite  unable  to  keep  still. 
Obviously  something  decisive  had  happened. 

"  I've  done  it,  Austin!  "  he  said.  "  I  never  thought 
I  should  be  so  happy  in  my  life — and  I  never  thought 
I  should  feel  such  a  beast  either." 

"  Congratulations!  And  explanations?  It  sounds  a 
curious  frame  of  mind." 

"  Margaret's  accepted  me — and  I'm  on  my  way 
to  Fillingford  to  tell  my  father.  Miss  Driver  insisted 
on  my  doing  it  at  once — said  it  was  the  only  square 
thing.  Otherwise — By  Jove,  I'd  rather  charge  a  bat- 
tery!" 

He  got  up  and  began  to  walk  about  the  room;  its 
dimensions  were  far  too  small,  whether  for  his  long 
legs  or  for  his  explosive  state  of  mind. 

"  By  gad,  Austin,  you  should  have  seen  how  she 
looked!" 

"Miss  Driver?" 

"  No,  no,  man,  Margaret.  I  was  awfully  doubtful — 
well,  a  fellow  doesn't  want  to  talk  about  his  feel- 
ings nor  about — about  what  happens  on  that  sort 
of  occasion,  you  know.  Only  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Miss  Driver,  I  couldn't  have  bucked  myself  up 
to  it,  you  know.  Taking  away  her  friend — leaving 
her  all  alone  again,  too!  "  he  paused  a  moment.  "  I 
tell  you  I  did  think  of  that,"  he  added  rather  vehe- 
mently. 

"  Most  men  wouldn't  have  thought  about  that  at 
all — perhaps  oughtn't  to  have." 


A   CHANCE  FOR  THE   ROMANTIC    369 

"  Ah,  but  then  what  she  is  to  both  of  us!  Well,  it 
went  right,  Austin,  it  went  right,  by  Jove!  " 

His  voice  was  exalted  to  the  skies  of  triumph.  In 
an  instant  it  dropped  to  the  pit  of  dismay.  "  And  now 
I've  got  to  tell  the  governor!  " 

"  All  this  has  happened  thousands  of  times  be- 
fore," I  ventured  to  remark  urbanely,  as  I  filled  my 
pipe  and  watched  his  restless  striding  up  and  down. 

That  brought  him  to  a  stand — and  cooled  him  into 
the  bargain.  "  Not  quite,"  he  said.  "  Not  quite,  Aus- 
tin." His  voice  had  become  more  quiet.  "  You  must 
see  that  there  are  elements  in  this  case  which — which 
make  it  a  bit  different?  My  father's  been  a  good 
friend  to  me.  Things  aren't  very  flourishing  with  us, 
as  I  daresay  you  know.  But  I've  always  had  every- 
thing— and  I've  spent  all  I  had,  too.  The  election  was 
a  squeeze  for  him;  of  course  he  wouldn't  let  me  take 
any  subscription — it  was  the  honor  of  the  family.  He 
thought  of  putting  things  straight  himself  once — you 
know  how.  He'd  sooner  die  than  do  that  now.  I'm 
doing  what's  pretty  nearly  as  bad  to  his  thinking — 
and  not  putting  things  straight  at  all!  I  daresay  you 
don't  sympathize  with  all  this,  but  I've  been  brought 
up  to  think  that  there's  such  a  thing  as  loyalty  to  the 
family — and  not  to  be  ashamed  of  it.  Well,  I've  cut 
all  that  adrift.  I  couldn't  help  it.  But  I  don't  know 
whether  we  can  go  on.  It  may  mean  " — he  threw  out 
his  hands — "a  general  break-up!" 

"  But  you're  set  on  it?  "  I  asked. 

;<  Isn't  it  a  good  deal  too  late  to  talk  about  that? 
When  I've  tried  to  make  her  love  me — and — and  she 
does?" 


37©  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Yes,  it's  late  in  the  day  now.  You  must  go  to 
your  father." 

"  I  think  I'd  sooner  be  taken  home  to  him  with  a 
bullet  in  my  head." 

"  You'll  find  it  won't  be  quite  so  bad  as  you  think. 
Bad,  but  not  quite  so  bad,  you  know." 

"  Ah,  you  don't  allow  for—"  He  stopped.  "  Well, 
you  remember  Hatcham  Ford?  " 

"  It  seems  rather  long  ago,  Lacey." 

"  Not  to  him:  he  broods.  If  only  she  wasn't ! '! 

"  •  Romeo,  Romeo,  wherefore  art  thou  Romeo! ' 

"  That  didn't  end  so  deuced  happily,  did  it?  ': 

"  Only  because  Romeo  got  back  at  the  wrong  mo- 
ment! Miss  Driver,  you  say,  was  pleased?  ,: 

"  Yes — oh,  more  than  that!  But  for  her  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  could  have  done  it.  Still  it's  my  own  job — and 
I'm  ready  to  face  it.  These  things  must  be  meant  to 
come,  Austin." 

I  glanced  at  the  clock.  He  laughed  reluctantly  and 
nervously.  "Give  a  fellow  five  minutes  more!"  he 
said. 

"  With  pleasure.  Spend  it  in  thinking  not  of  your- 
self, nor  even  of  your  father — but  of  Margaret." 

"  Yes,  that's  right,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  That's  the 
thing  to  think  about.  That'll  carry  me  through."  He 
gave  another  unwilling  laugh.  "  If  he'd  only  be  vio- 
lent, or  kick  me  out,  or  something  of  that  sort — like 
the  silly  old  fools  in  the  plays!  Not  he!  He'll  behave 
perfectly,  be  very  calm  and  very  quiet — particularly 
civil  about  Margaret  herself!  He'll  tell  me  I  must 
judge  for  myself — just  as  he  did  about  coming  to 
Breysgate,_  And  all  the  while  he'll  be  breaking  his 


A   CHANCE   FOR  THE   ROMANTIC    371 

heart."  He  smiled  at  me  ruefully.  "  Aunt  Sarah'll  do 
the  cursing — but  who  cares  for  that?" 

''  A  good  many  people  besides  Lady  Sarah  will 
have  a  word  to  say,  no  doubt." 

'  I  don't  care  a  damn  for  the  lot  of  them — except 
my  father,"  he  said — and  I  was  glad  to  hear  him  say 
it.  It  expressed — vigorously — my  own  feelings  in  the 
matter.  "  And  don't  you  think  I'm  the  happiest  man 
on  earth?  "  he  added  a  moment  later. 

'  Earth's  not  heaven.  Try  to  let  Lord  Fillingford 
see  what  you've  shown  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Austin?  " 
'  You  don't  mind  my  saying  it?  It's  another  of 
those  things  that  one  generally  doesn't  care  to  talk 
about.  Try  to  show  him  that  you  love  her  very  much, 
and  that  next  in  order — and  not  quite  out  of  sight 
either — comes  your  father.  Don't  treat  it  casually — 
as  if  you  were  telling  him  you  were  going  to  dine  out 
— though  I  daresay  that's  the  etiquette.  Try  the  open 
heart  against  the  hidden  one.  You  appreciate  his 
case.  Show  him  you  do.  That's  my  advice." 

"  It's  good  advice.  I'll  try."  He  came  to  me  hold- 
ing out  his  hand.  "  And  wish  me  good  luck!  " 

You've  had  as  fine  a  slice  of  luck  to-day  as  hap- 
pens to  most  men.  Here's  to  another!  " 

He  wrung  my  hand  hard.  "  I've  made  an  ass  of 
myself,  I  suppose!"  That  was  homage  to  the  eti- 
quette. "  I'll  remember  what  you've  said.  He  has 
a  case,  by  Jove,  and  a  strong  one!"  He  smiled 
again.  '  Somehow  Margaret's  case  won,  though," 
he  ended. 

He  went  his  way — a  straight  lad  and  a  simple  gen- 


372  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

tleman.  He  had  no  idea  that  any  schemes  had  been 
afoot,  that  any  wires  had  been  pulled,  either  for  him 
or  against  his  father — if  to  get  this  thing  done  were 
indeed  against  Fillingford.  Nor  had  he  any  idea  that 
his  scruples  about  family  loyalty  were  to  be  an- 
nihilated by  the  intervention  of  a  fairy  godmother. 
Jenny  had  stuck  to  the  romantic  color  of  her  scheme. 
She  sent  him  forth  to  meet  his  father  with  no  plea 
in  extenuation,  with  no  proffer  of  gold  wherewith  to 
gild  the  hated  name  of  Octon.  His  fight  was  to  be 
single-handed.  So  she  chose  to  prove  his  metal — 
with,  perhaps,  a  side-thought  that  the  fairy  god- 
mother's intervention,  coming  later,  might  be  more 
effective — and  would  certainly  gain  in  picturesque- 
ness!  That  notion,  unflattering  maybe,  one  could  not 
easily  dismiss  when  the  workings  of  her  mind  were 
in  question.  Yet  it  might  be  that  a  finer  idea  was 
there — that  it  was  not  only  Lacey's  metal  which  was 
to  be  proved  that  night.  She  had  said  that  she 
was  ready  to  bribe,  that  she  might  have  to  bully — and 
implied  that  she  was  prepared  to  do  both  at  once,  if 
need  be.  But  had  it  come  across  her  thoughts  that, 
by  divine  chance,  she  might  have  to  do  neither?  She 
knew  Fillingford's  love  for  his  son;  she  had  sent 
Margaret  to  met  Fillingford  that  he  might  see  her 
as  she  was.  She  might  be  minded  now  to  prove  if  love 
alone  would  not  serve  the  turn.  The  battalions  might 
all  be  held  in  leash — and  the  God  of  Love  himself 
sent  forth  as  herald  to  a  parley.  If  Fillingford  sur- 
rendered to  that  pleading,  the  victory  would  not  be 
so  purely  Jenny's:  but  she  would,  I  believed,  have  the 
grace  to  like  it  better.  That  it  was  a  less  characteristic 


A   CHANCE   FOR  THE   ROMANTIC    373 

mode  of  proceeding  had  to  be  admitted:  but  to-day 
there  would  be  an  atmosphere  at  the  Priory  which 
might  incline  her  to  it.  She  would  not  force  Filling- 
ford,  if  she  need  not — neither  by  threats  nor  by 
bribes.  Being  myself,  I  suppose,  somewhat  touched 
by  Amyas  Lacey's  exaltation,  I  found  myself  hoping 
that  she  would  try — first — the  appeal  of  heart  to 
heart.  That  she  would  accept  it  as  final — I  knew  too 
much  to  look  for  that. 

The  case  could  not,  in  its  nature,  be  so  simple.  With 
the  appeal  of  love  must  come  that  relief  from  a 
greater  fear  which  she  had  carefully  implanted,  on 
which  she  certainly  reckoned.  That  was  in  the  very 
marrow  of  her  plan;  no  romantic  fancies  could  get 
rid  of  it.  The  best  excuse  for  it  lay  in  the  fact  that 
it  would  certainly  be  useful,  and  was  probably  neces- 
sary. When  things  are  certainly  useful  and  probably 
necessary,  the  world  is  apt  to  exhibit  toward  them  a 
certain  leniency  of  judgment.  Jenny  did  not  set  her- 
self above  the  world  in  moral  matters. 

I  went  up  to  the  Priory  after  dinner,  availing  my- 
self of  Jenny's  strictly  defined  invitation.  But  up 
there  I  made  a  blunder.  I  blundered  into  a  room 
where  one  person  at  least  did  not  want  me — I  am 
not  so  sure  about  the  other.  Dormer  had  gone  clean 
out  of  my  head;  more  serious  matters  were  to  the 
front.  Heedlessly  I  charged  into  the  library;  there 
were  he  and  Jenny!  Luckily  I  seemed  to  have  arrived 
only  at  the  tail-end  of  their  conversation.  "  Quite 
final,"  were  the  words  I  heard  from  her  lips  as  I 
opened  the  door.  She  was  standing  opposite  Dormer, 
looking    demurely    resolute,    but    quite    gentle    and 


374  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

friendly.   He  was  looking  not   much  distressed,  but 
most  remarkably  sulky. 

I  tried  to  back  out,  but  she  called  me  in.  "  Come 
in,  Austin.  You're  just  in  time  to  bid  Mr.  Dormer 
good  night." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  suppose  I'd  better 
be  off.  I'll  pick  up  the  car  at  the  stables." 

"  Good  night.  We  shall  see  you  again  some  day 
soon?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  I  may  go  away  for  a 
bit — and  anyhow  I  expect  to  be  pretty  busy." 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  shall  see  you  again  some  day  soon! ': 
she  said  very  kindly  and  persuasively.  "  You  won't 
let  it  be  too  long,  will  you?  And  you  will  see  Mr. 
Cartmell  about  that  business,  won't  you?  " 

He  nodded  in  an  offhand  surly  fashion — but  he 
might  be  excused  for  being  a  little  out  of  temper. 
Evidently  he  was  not  going  to  get  Jenny's  land;  ap- 
parently she  was  still  to  get  what  she  wanted  of  his. 
"  You'll  have  to  pay  for  them!  ''  he  reminded  her, 
almost  threateningly. 

"  A  fancy  price  for  my  fancy?  Well,   I'm  always 
ready  to  pay  that,"  said  Jenny.  "  Good  night  and, 
mind  you,  quite  soon!  "  Her  tone  implied  real  anx-  , 
iety  to  see  her  friend  again;  under  its  influence  he 
gave  a  half-unwilling  nod  of  assent. 

I  escorted  him  as  far  as  the  hall  door — further  than 
that  he  declined  my  company.  I  held  a  match  for  him 
to  light  his  cigar  and  gave  him  a  stirrup-cup.  "  Good 
night,  Austin!"  Then  his  irritation  got  the  better 
of  him.  "  Damn  it,  does  she  want  Lacey  for  herself, 
after  all?  "  Evidently  the  great  event  of  the  day — 


A   CHANCE   FOR  THE   ROMANTIC    375 

from  our  point  of  view — had  not  been  confided  to 
him. 

'  Oh,  no,  you  may  be  sure  she  doesn't." 
•  Then  what  the  deuce  she  does  want  I  don't  know 
— and  I  don't  believe  she  does!"  With  this  parting 
grumble  he  slouched  off  sulkily  toward  the  stable. 

As  a  humane  man,  I  was  sorry  for  his  plight; 
Jenny  was  still  serenely  ruthless. 

"Annoyed,  isn't  he?"  she  asked  when  I  rejoined 
her.  "  Really  I  was  rather  glad  when  you  came  in.  He 
had  got  as  far  as  hinting  that  I — he  put  a  good  deal 
of  emphasis  on  his  '  you  ' — ought  to  have  jumped  at 
him!  It's  quite  possible  that  he'd  have  become  more 
explicit — though  it  wouldn't  have  come  very  well 
from  him  under  the  circumstances." 

"  You've  deluded  the  young  man,  you  know." 

'  Oh,  it'll  do  him  good,"  she  declared  impatiently. 
!  Didn't  he  deserve  to  be  deluded?  He  wanted  me  for 
what  I  had,  not  for  myself.  Well,  I  don't  so  much 
mind  that,  but  I  tell  you,  Austin,  he  patronized  me! 
I  may  be  a  sinner,  but  I'm  not  going  to  be  patronized 
by  Gerald  Dormer  without  hitting  back." 

"Did  you  quarrel?" 

She  smiled.  "  No.  I'm  never  going  to  quarrel  any 
more.  He'll  be  back  here  in  no  time — and  have  an- 
other try  most  likely!  You  see,  I'm  going  into  train- 
ing— a  course  of  amiability,  so  as  to  be  ready  for 
Lady  Sarah."  She  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  Do  you  know 
that  this  is  a  most  exciting  evening?  " 

'  Oh,  yes,  I  can  imagine  that.  I've  had  a  long  talk 
with  Lacey." 

'  Have   you?   Isn't   he    splendid,    poor   boy?   You 


376  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

should  have  seen  his  face  when  I  sent  him  to  her!  He 
thought  of  nothing  but  her  then — but  I  like  him  for 
thinking  of  his  father  now.  And  I've  brought  it  off- 
Austin!  He  thinks  there  may  be  just  a  pretty  wed- 
ding present  —  a  trousseau  check,  perhaps!'  She 
came  up  to  me.  "  This  is  a  good  thing  I've  done — to 
set  against  the  rest." 

"  I  think  it  is.  But  the  boy  feels  horribly  guilty." 

She  nodded.  "  I  know — and  so  does  poor  Mar- 
garet. I'm  afraid  she's  crying  up  in  her  own  den — 
and  that's  not  right  for  to-night,  is  it?  " 

"  Love's  joy  and  woe  can  be  simultaneous  as  well 
as  alternate,  I'm  afraid." 

"  I  can't  stand  it  much  longer."  She  looked  at  the 
clock.  "  He's  to  send  word  over  to-night,  if  he  can — 
by  a  groom — how  he's  got  on — breaking  the  news, 
you  know.  Let's  go  out  into  the  garden  and  wait  for 
this  important  messenger.  But,  whatever  he  says,  I 
believe  I  shall  have  to  put  my  oar  in  to-morrow.  I 
can't  have  my  poor  Margaret  like  this  much  longer. 
She  knows  now  why  she  was  taken  to  Mr.  Alison's, 
and  does  nothing  but  declare  that  she  behaved 
atrociously!  " 

We  were  a  silent  pair  of  watchers.  Jenny's  whole 
soul  seemed  absorbed  in  waiting.  She  spoke  only 
once — in  words  which  betrayed  the  line  of  her 
thoughts.  "  If  I'd  thought  it  would  be  as  bad  as  this 
— for  her,  I  mean — I  believe  I'd  have  brought  her 
here  under  another  name,  in  spite  of  everything,  and 
perpetrated  a  fraud!  I  could  have  told  them  after  the 
wedding!  " 

I  was  afraid  that  she  would  have  been  quite  capable 


A   CHANCE  FOR  THE   ROMANTIC     377 

of  such  villainy  where  Margaret  was  in  question,  and 
not  altogether  averse  from  a  denoument  so  dramatic. 

'  Either  Lacey's  shirked  the  interview — or  it's 
been  a  very  long  one,"  I  remarked,  as  the  clock  over 
the  stables  struck  half-past  ten.  "  Poor  Dormer's 
home  by  now — to  solitude!" 

'  Oh,  bother  Mr.  Dormer  and  his  solitude!  Listen, 
do  you  hear  hoofs?  " 

"  I  can't  say  I  do,"  I  rejoined,  lighting  my  pipe. 

"  How  you  can  smoke!  "  she  exclaimed  scornfully. 
Really  I  could  not  do  anything  else — in  view  of  the 
tension. 

A  voice  came  from  above  our  heads:  "Jenny,  are 
there  any  signs?  " 

'  Not  yet,  dear,"  called  Jenny,  and  waved  her  arms 
despairingly.  "  Ah!  "  She  held  up  her  hand  and  rose 
quickly  to  her  feet.  Now  we  heard  the  distant  sound 
of  hoofs.  "  I  wonder  if  he's  written  to  me  or  to  her!  " 
She  started  walking  toward  the  drive. 

'  To  you,  I'll  be  bound!  "  I  answered  as  I  followed. 

In  a  few  moments  the  groom  rode  up.  Jenny 
was  waiting  for  him,  took  the  letter  from  him,  and 
opened  it. 

'  No  answer,"  she  said.  "  Thank  you.  You'll  ask 
them  to  give  you  a  glass  of  beer,  won't  you?  " 

The  man  thanked  her,  touched  his  hat,  and  rode 
off  to  the  servants'  quarters. 

'  In  old  days  the  bearer  of  bad  tidings  wouldn't 
have  got  a  glass  of  beer,"  I  suggested. 

'  The  tidings  are  doubtful."  She  gave  me  the  let- 
ter: "  He  is  terribly  cut  up.  He  promises  me  an  an- 
swer to-morrow.  I  haven't  told  him  yet  that  I  must 


378  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

stick  to  it  anyhow.  That's  for  to-morrow,  too,  if  it 
must  come.  My  love  to  her. — Amyas." 

"  It'd  be  so  much  better  if  he  never  had  to  say 
that,"  Jenny  reflected  thoughtfully. 

Certainly  it  would.  If  the  thing  could  be  managed 
without  a  rupture,  without  defiance  on  the  one  side 
or  an  unyielding  posture  on  the  other,  it  would  be 
much  more  comfortable  for  everybody  afterwards. 

"  Still,  you  know,  he's  ready  to  do  it  if  he 
must."  Her  pride  in  her  romantic  handiwork  spoke 


again. 


Suddenly  Margaret  was  with  us,  out  of  breath 
from  her  run  downstairs,  gasping  out  a  prayer  for  the 
letter.  Jenny  gave  it  to  her,  and  she  read  it.  She 
looked  up  to  Jenny  with  terrified  eyes. 

"  He  mustn't  do  it  for  me.  I  must  give  him  up, 
Jenny,"  she  murmured,  woefully  forlorn. 

Very  gently,  just  the  least  scornfully,  Jenny  an- 
swered, "  We  don't  give  things  up  at  Breysgate." 
She  stooped  and  kissed  her.  "  Go  and  dream  that  it's 
all  right.  It  will  be  by  this  time  to-morrow.  Austin 
and  I  have  a  little  business  to  talk  over." 

Having  thus  dismissed  Margaret  (who  carried  off 
the  precious  distressful  letter  with  her),  Jenny  led 
me  back  into  the  library,  bidding  me  to  go  on  smok- 
ing if  I  really  must.  She  sat  down,  very  thoughtful. 

"  It's  delicate,"  she  said.  "  Of  course  I'm  trying  to 
bribe  him,  but  I  don't  want  to  seem  to  do  it.  If  I 
make  my  offer  before  he  decides,  that  looks  like 
bribing.  If  he  decides  against  us,  and  we  make  it  then 
—bribery  still!  But  in  addition  to  bribery,  there'll  be 
the  bad  feeling  between  Amyas  and  him.   No,  we 


A   CHANCE   FOR   THE   ROMANTIC     379 

must  do  it  before  he  decides!  Only  you'll  have  to  be 

very  diplomatic — very  careful  how  you  do  it." 

'I  shall  have  to  be?"  I  exclaimed  fairly  startled. 
"  1 1 " 

"Well,    J   can't   go  to  him,   can    I?"   she  asked. 
'  That  really  would  be  too  awkward!  "  She  smiled  at 
the  thought  of  the  suggested  interview. 

"Pens,  ink,  and  paper!"  I  suggested,  waving  a 
hand  toward  the  writing-table. 

"  No,  no — I  want  the  way  felt.  If  you  see  he's 
going  to  give  in  without — without  the  bribe — of 
course  you  say  nothing  about  it  till  he's  consented. 
That'd  be  best  of  all;  then  there's  no  bribe  really. 
But  if  he  looks  like  deciding  against  us,  then  you 
tactfully  offer  the  bribe.  You  must  be  feeling  his 
mind  all  the  time,  Austin." 

"  And  if  he  has  already  decided  against  us?  " 
She  looked  at  me  resolutely.  "  Remind  him  that 
it's  not  as  bad  as  it  might  be." 
"  Bribe— and  bully?  " 

:  Yes."  She  met  my  eyes  for  a  minute,  then  turned 

her  head  away,  with  a  rather  peevish  twist  of  her  lips. 

'  This  is  a  pleasant  errand  to  send  a  respectable 

man  on!    Do   you  want   me    to   go   to  him   at   the 

Manor?  " 

'  Yes — the  very  first  thing  after  breakfast,  so  as  to 
catch  him,  if  you  can,  before  he  has  had  time  to  pro- 
nounce against  us,  if  that's  what  he's  going  to  do.  A 
man  surely  wouldn't  do  a  thing  like  that  before 
breakfast!  You'll  go  for  me,  Austin?" 

'  Of  course  I'll  go  for  you  if  you  want  me  to." 
'  Then  I'll  give  you  your  instructions." 


380  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

She  gave  them  to  me  clearly,  concisely,  and  with 
complete  decision.  I  heard  her  in  a  silence  broken 
only  once — then  by  a  low  whistle  from  me.  She  ended 
and  lay  back  in  her  chair,  her  eyes  asking  my  views. 

"  You're  in  for  another  big  row  if  you  do  this,  you 
know,"  I  remarked  to  her. 

"  Another  row?  With  whom?  " 

"Why,  with  Cartmell,  to  be  sure!  It's  so  much 
more  than's  necessary." 

"  No,  it's  not,"  she  declared  rather  hotly.  "  It  may 
be  more  than's  necessary  for  her,  or  perhaps  for  Lord 
Fillingford.  It's  not  more  than  is  necessary  for  me — 
nor  for  Leonard." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  She  laughed  rather  im- 
patiently. "  One's  friends  always  want  one  to  be  a 
niggard!"  She  leaned  forward  to  me,  breaking  into 
a  coaxing  smile,  "  Remember  '  the  handsome  thing,' 
dear  Austin." 

I  came  to  her  and  patted  her  hand.  "  I'm  with  you 
right  through.  And,  after  all,  you'll  still  have  a  roof 
over  your  head." 

She  looked  at  me  with  eyes  merry,  yet  foreseeing. 
"  I  shan't  be  in  at  all  a  bad  position."  She  laughed. 
"  No  harm  in  that — so  long  as  it  doesn't  interfere 
with  Margaret?  " 

"  No  harm  in  the  world.  I  was  only  afraid  that 
you'd  lost  sight  of  it." 

Jenny  sighed  and  smiled.  "  You  needn't  be  afraid 
of  such  a  complete  transformation  as  that,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

A    FRESH    COAT    OF    PAINT 

IT  was  all  very  well  to  tell  me  that  I  must  fee! 
Fillingford's  mind,  but  that  possession  of  his 
had  always  seemed  to  me  to  achieve  a  high 
degree  of  intangibility.  His  words  were  not  in  the 
habit  of  disclosing  more  of  it  than  was  necessary  for 
his  purpose — without  any  regard  for  his  interlocu- 
tor's— while  his  face  reduced  expression  to  a  mini- 
mum. For  all  you  got  from  looking  at  him,  you 
might  pretty  nearly  as  well  have  talked  with  your 
eyes  shut.  That  sudden  stroke  of  surprise  and  relief 
at  Alison's  stood  out  in  my  memory  as  unique — the 
only  real  revelation  of  his  feelings  which  I  had  seen 
reflected  on  his  countenance.  High  demands  were 
being  made  on  me  as  an  amateur  diplomatist! 

My  arrival  at  the  Manor  was  early — untimely 
probably,  and  certainly  unexpected.  The  very  butler 
showed  surprise,  and  left  me  standing  in  the  hall 
while  he  went  to  discover  whether  Fillingford  could 
see  me.  Before  this  he  had  suggested  that  it  was 
Lacey  whom  I  really  wanted  and  that,  since  Lacey 
had  gone  out  riding  directly  after  breakfast,  my  er- 
rand was  vain.  When  I  insisted  that  I  knew  whom  I 
wanted,  he  gave  way,  still  reluctantly;  several  min 

381 


382  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

utes  passed  before  he  returned  with  the  message  that 
his  lordship  would  receive  me.  He  led  me  along  a 
corridor,  toward  a  door  at  the  far  end  of  it.  To  my 
consternation,  as  we  approached  that  door,  Lady 
Sarah  came  out  of  it — and  came  out  with  a  good  deal 
of  meaning.  She  flounced  out;  and  she  passed  me 
with  angry  eyes  and  her  head  erect.  I  felt  quite  sure 
that  Lady  Sarah  had  been  against  my  being  received 
at  all  that  morning. 

During  previous  visits  to  the  Manor,  I  had  not 
enjoyed  the  privilege  of  being  shown  Fillingford's 
study,  in  which  I  now  found  myself  (not  without 
qualms).  It  was  a  large  room  which  mere  neglect 
would  have  left  beautiful;  but,  unlike  the  rest  of  the 
house,  it  appeared  to  have  been  methodically  ren- 
dered depressing.  His  dour  personality  had — in  his 
own  sanctum — overpowered  the  native  beauty  of  his 
house.  Even  the  charming  view  of  the  old  park  was 
more  than  half  hidden  by  blinds  of  an  indescribably 
gloomy  brown,  which  challenged  to  a  match  the 
melancholy  of  a  drab  carpet.  Two  or  three  good 
portraits  were  killed  by  their  surroundings — but  Fill- 
ingford  himself  seemed  in  a  deadly  harmony  with  his 
room.  His  thin  gray  face  and  whitening  hair,  his  dull 
weary  eyes,  and  his  rounded  shoulders,  made  him 
and  his  room  rather  suggestive  of  a  funeral  card — 
broad-edged  in  black,  with  a  photograph  of  the  late 
lamented  in  the  middle — looking  as  dead  as  the  in- 
timation told  one  that  unfortunately  he  was. 

He  rose  for  a  moment  to  shake  hands,  indicating 
a  chair  for  me  close  by  the  table  at  which  he  sat.  The 
table   was   covered   with   papers  and  bundles,   very 


A    FRESH    COAT    OF    PAINT         383 

neatly  arranged;  everything  in  the  room  was  in  its 
place  to  an  inch. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Austin,"  he  said  in  reply 
to  my  apology  for  so  early  a  visit,  "  and  if  you  come 
on  business,  as  you  say,  the  hour  isn't  at  all  too  early 
for  me."  He  was  perfectly  courteous — but  dry  as 
dust. 

"  I  come  on  Miss  Driver's  behalf.  As  you  are  prob- 
ably aware,  your  son  Lord  Lacey  has  done  Miss 
Margaret  Octon  the  honor  of  making  her  a  proposal 
of  marriage.  Miss  Octon  is  in  the  position  of  being 
under  Miss  Driver's  care — I  may  perhaps  call  her  her 
ward — and  Miss  Driver  is  anxious  to  know  whether 
Lord  Lacey's  proposal  has  your  approval." 

'  Has  it  Miss  Driver's  approval?  "  he  asked. 

"  Most  cordially — provided  it  has  yours.  Further 
than  that  she  wouldn't  wish  to  go  without  knowing 
your  views." 

He  spoke  slowly  and  deliberately.  "  You  and  I 
have  approached  this  subject  before  —  incidentally, 
Mr.  Austin.  I  have  little  doubt  that  you  gathered 
from  that  conversation  that  I  had  had  another  idea 
in  my  mind?  " 

"  Yes,  I  rather  understood  that — from  what  you  let 
fall." 

"  That  idea  was  entirely  erroneous,  I  suppose? 
Or,  at  all  events,  if  ever  entertained,  is  abandoned 
now?  " 

We  had  already  got  on  to  delicate  ground.  "  The 
situation  seems  to  speak  for  itself,  Lord  Fillingford. 
And  I'm  sure  that  the  arrangement  now  proposed  has 
always  been  desired  by  Miss  Driver." 


384  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

"  Miss  Driver  has  a  very  great  influence  over  my 
son,  I  think,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  don't  think  she  would  wish  to  deny  that  she 
has  favored  this  arrangement  so  far  as  she  properly 
and  legitimately  could.  She  was  naturally  desirous 
of  promoting  Miss  Octon's  happiness.  If  in  other  re- 
spects the  marriage  was  a  very  desirable  one — well, 
she  was  entitled  to  think  of  that  also." 

"  You  consider  that  Miss  Octon's  feelings  are 
deeply  engaged  in  this  matter?  " 

"  If  you  ask  me,  I  think  the  two  young  people  are 
as  much  in  love  as  any  young  couple  could  be." 

"  I  know  my  son's  feelings;  he  has  made  me  aware 
of  them.  And  Miss  Driver  thinks  this  marriage  de- 
sirable? " 

"  She  charged  me  to  express  the  great  pleasure 
she  would  take  in  it,  if  it  met  with  your  approval." 

He  sat  silent  for  a  moment,  his  hand  up  to  his 
mouth  as  he  bit  his  finger  nail.  For  reasons  I  have 
given,  to  follow  the  trend  of  his  thoughts  was  quite 
beyond  my  powers  of  discernment. 

"  I  suppose  I  seem  to  her — and  perhaps  to  you — 
a  very  ineffectual  person?  "  he  went  on  in  his  even 
voice,  with  his  dull  eyes  (like  a  gas  jet  turned  low 
to  save  the  light!) — "  I  have  the  bad  luck  to  stand 
halfway  between  two  schools — two  generations — of 
ideas.  When  I  was  born,  men  of  my  order  still  had 
fortunes;  nowadays  many  of  them  have  to  set  out 
to  make  fortunes — or  at  least  careers — like  other 
people.  I've  been  stranded  halfway.  The  fortunes  of 
my  house  are  gone;  I've  neither  the  power  nor  the 
taste  to  try  to  retrieve  them;  and  I'm  too  old.  Pub- 


A    FRESH    COAT    OF    PAINT  385 

lie  life  used  to  be  the  thing,  but  I've  not  the  manners 
for  that."  His  chilly  smile  came  again.  "  So  I  sil 
on,  watching  the  ruins  falling  into  more  utter  ruin 
still." 

It  was  not  for  me  to  say  anything  to  that.  But  I 
had  a  new  sympathy  for  him.  His  room,  again, 
seemed  to  add  a  silent  confirmation  of  all  he  said. 

"  Once  I  did  try  to  retrieve  the  situation.  You 
know  how — and  how  the  attempt  ended.  It  served 
me  right — and  I've  learned  the  lesson.  Now  the 
same  woman  asks  me  for  my  son." 

"  Not  for  herself!  " 

"No,  thank  God!" 

He  said  that  very  deliberately — not  carried  away, 
meaning  to  let  me  have  it  for  all  it  was  worth.  Well, 
my  diplomacy  failed — or  I  fear  so.  I  did  not  like  to 
hear  him  thank  God  for  being  quit  of  Jenny. 

"  She  might  have,"  I  declared  impulsively. 

"  I  think  you're  right.  She's  a  very  clever  woman. 
Young  men  are  wax  in  hands  like  that." 

"  Shall  we  get  back  from  what  isn't  in  question  to 
what  is,  Lord  Fillingford?  " 

"  I  don't  think  that  the  digression  was  due  to  me — 
not  wholly  anyhow.  If  it  were,  I  must  seek  excuse  in 
the  fact  that  I  have  lived  a  month  under  that  night- 
mare." I  must  have  given  some  sign  of  protest  or 
indignation.  "  Well,  I  beg  your  pardon — under  that 
impression." 

"  From  that,  at  least,  you're  relieved — by  the  pres- 
ent arrangement." 

"  The  proposed  arrangement  " — T  noticed  that  he 
corrected  my   epithet — "  has  not  my  approval,   Mr. 


386  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

Austin.  The  other  day  I  called  it  ridiculous.  That  was 
perhaps  too  strong.  But  it  is  profoundly  distasteful 
to  me,  and  not  at  all  to  my  son's  interest.  I  wish 
to  say  plainly  that  I  am  doing  and  shall  do  my  best 
to  dissuade  him  from  it." 

"  If  he  won't  be  dissuaded?  " 

"  I  venture  to  hope  that  we  needn't  discuss  that 
eventuality.  Time  enough,  if  it  should  occur." 

"  Miss  Octon's  feelings " 

"  What  Miss  Driver  has — properly  and  legiti- 
mately as  you  maintain — used  her  efforts  to  promote, 
she  will  probably  be  able,  with  a  little  more  trouble, 
to  undo.  That  seems  to  me  not  my  affair." 

His  defense  was  very  quiet,  very  stubborn.  He  told 
me  no  more  than  suited  him.  But  I  was  entitled  to 
lay  hold  of  the  two  grounds  of  objection  which  he 
had  advanced;  the  arrangement  was  distasteful  to 
him — and  not  at  all  to  his  son's  interest. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  candor  in  putting  me  in 
possession  of  your  views.  Miss  Driver  would  wish  me 
to  be  equally  frank  with  you.  She  has  anticipated 
your  objections." 

"  She  could  hardly  do  otherwise,"  he  remarked, 
smiling  faintly. 

"  As  regards  the  first,  her  position  is  that  this  girl 
can't  be  held  responsible  for  anything  in  the  past. 
She,  at  least,  is  blameless." 

"  I  occupy  the  position  of  my  parents — and  bear 
their  burdens,  Mr.  Austin.  So  do  you  of  yours.  It's 
the  way  of  the  world,  I'm  afraid,  and  Miss  Driver 
can't  alter  it." 

"She  regards  this  sentimental  objection " 


A    FRESH    COAT    OF    PAINT  387 

"  You  would  apply  that  term  to  my  objection  to 
allying  my  family  with  the  late  Mr.  Octon's?  " 

I  was  not  quite  sure  of  my  epithet  myself.  "  I 
didn't  say  your  objection  wasn't  natural." 

"  Perhaps  you  might  go  so  far  as  to  admit  that  it 
is  inevitable?  I  on  my  part  will  admit  that  the  girl 
herself  appears  to  be  unexceptionable.  Indeed,  I  liked 
her  very  much,  when  I  met  her  at  our  friend  Alison's. 
That,  however,  doesn't  in  my  view  alter  the  case." 

"  I  understand.  Will  you  permit  me  to  pass  to  the 
other  point  you  mentioned — that  of  your  son's  in- 
terest? " 

"  If  you  please,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  inclination 
of  his  head,  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  I  could 
see  that  I  had  made  no  way  with  him.  The  best  that 
we  had  hoped  for  was  not  coming  to  pass.  There  was 
to  be  no  triumph  of  pure  romance;  even  relief  from 
the  "  nightmare  "  would  not,  by  itself,  serve  the  turn. 

"  Having  placed  Miss  Octon  in  the  position  which 
she  now  occupies,  Miss  Driver  naturally  charges  her- 
self with  Miss  Octon's  future." 

"  Miss  Driver  is  well  known  to  be  generous.  I  had 
anticipated,  in  my  turn,  that  she  would  propose  to 
make  some  provision  for  Miss  Octon  who,  as  I  un- 
derstand, has  only  a  very  small  income  of  her  own." 

"  Miss  Driver  has  recently  concluded  negotiations 
for  the  purchase  of  Oxley  Lodge,  together  with  the 
whole  of  Mr.  Bertram  Ware's  estate.  It  is  estimated 
that,  freed  from  encumbrances,  that  estate  will  pro- 
duce a  net  rental  of  three  thousand  pounds  a  year. 
Miss  Driver  will  present  the  house  and  estate  to  Miss 
Octon  on  her  marriage." 


388  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

He  raised  his  brows  slightly,  but  made  no  other 
comment  than,  "  I  had  heard  that  she  was  in  treaty 
for  Ware's  place.  Aspenick  told  me." 

"  She  will  settle  on  Miss  Octon  a  sum  of  money 
sufficient  to  make  up  this  income  to  the  sum  of  ten 
thousand  pounds  a  year.  This  income  she  will  increase 
to  twenty  thousand  on  Lord  Lacey's  succession  to  the 
title.  She  will  also  present  Miss  Octon,  on  her  mar- 
riage, with  a  lump  sum  of  fifty  thousand  pounds.  She 
will  execute  a  settlement  of  funds  sufficient  to  raise 
the  income  to  thirty  thousand  on  her  death — this  in- 
come to  be  settled  on  Miss  Octon  for  life,  with  re- 
mainder among  her  children  as  she  and  her  husband 
shall  jointly  appoint.  I  am  also  to  inform  you  that, 
without  undertaking  any  further  legal  obligation,  it  is 
Miss  Driver's  present  intention  to  leave  to  Miss  Oc- 
ton, or  (if  Miss  Octon  predeceases  her)  to  any  son  of 
hers  who  is  heir  to  your  title,  the  estate  of  Breysgate 
and  the  greater  part  of  her  Catsford  property.  I  need 
not  tell  you  that  that  property  is  of  great  and  growing 
value.  In  short,  subject  to  public  claims  and  certain 
comparatively  small  private  ones,  Miss  Octon  is  to  be 
regarded  as  her  natural  heir  no  less  absolutely  and 
completely  than  if  she  were  her  own  and  her  only 
child." 

He  heard  me  all  through  with  an  impassive  face — 
even  his  brows  had  returned  to  their  natural  level. 
"  Miss  Driver  is  a  young  woman  herself.  She  will 
probably  marry." 

"  It  is  possible,  and  therefore  she  limits  her  legal 
obligation  to  the  amount  I  have  mentioned — approx- 
imately one  half  of  her  present  income.  I  am,  how- 


A    FRESH    COAT    OF    PAINT  389 

ever,  to  inform  you  in  confidence  that  it  is  her  fixed 
intention  not  to  marry,  and  that  it  is  practically  cer- 
tain that  she  will  not  depart  from  that  resolution — in 
which  case  the  ultimate  arrangement  which  I  have 
indicated  will  come  into  effect." 

The  bribe  was  out — and  fewest  possible  words 
spent  over  it!    Now — how  would  he  take  it? 

His  manner  showed  nothing.  He  sat  silent  for  a 
minute  or  two.  Then  he  said,  "  It's  certainly  princely." 
He  smiled  slightly  again.  "  I  think  I  must  apologize 
for  my  word  '  provision.'  This  is  a  very  large  fortune, 
Mr.  Austin — or  seems  like  it  to  poor  folks  like  the 
Laceys." 

"  It's  a  very  Considerable  fortune.  As  I  have  said, 
Miss  Driver  regards  Margaret  Octon  as  in  the  place 
of  her  own  daughter.  Miss  Driver  thought  it  only 
right  that  these  circumstances  should  be  placed  be- 
fore you  as  possibly  bearing  on  the  decision  you  felt 
it  your  duty  to  make  yourself,  or  to  recommend  to 
your  son." 

"  Why  does  she  do  it?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  I've  just  given  you  the  reason  which  I  was  di- 
rected to  give.  I  wasn't  commissioned  to  give  any 
other.  She  regards  Miss  Octon  in  the  light  of  an  only 
child — the  natural  object  of  her  bounty  and,  in  due 
course  of  time,  her  natural  successor." 

"  We  met  once  at  Hatcham  Ford,  Mr.  Austin,"  he 
said  abruptly.  "  You  remember?  I  think  you  knew 
pretty  well  the  state  of  things  then  existing  between 
Miss  Driver  and  myself?  I've  charged  you  with  pos- 
sessing that  knowledge  before.  That  piece  of  knowl- 
edge may  enable  you  to  understand  how  the  present 


39°  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

proposition  affects  me.  This  isn't  all  love  for  Margaret 
Octon." 

'  No,  not  all  love  for  Margaret.  But  now  you're 
asking  me  for  my  opinion,  not  for  my  message." 

"  I  didn't  mean  it  as  a  question.  But  I  see  that  you 
agree  with  me.  Then  you  may  understand  that  I  can 
feel  no  gratitude  for  this  offer.  It — and  consequently 
the  arrangement  of  which  it  is  a  part — would  trans- 
form everything  here.  It  would  accomplish  the  task 
which  I  haven't  even  had  the  courage  to  try  to  ac- 
complish. It  would  blot  out  my  great  failure.  But, 
coming  whence  it  does  and  why  it  does,  I  can  feel  no 
gratitude  for  it." 

"  It  would  be  very  far  from  Miss  Driver's  thoughts 
to  expect  anything  of  the  kind." 

Suddenly  he  pushed  back  his  chair,  rose  to  his  feet, 
and  went  to  the  window,  impatiently  letting  one  of 
the  ugly  brown  blinds  fly  up  to  the  ceiling  by  a  tug 
at  its  cord.  He  stood  there  two  or  three  minutes.  His 
back  was  still  toward  me  when  he  spoke  again. 

"  I've  been  a  steward  more  than  an  owner — a  care- 
taker, I  should  rather  say.  This  would  make  my  son 
and  his  son  after  him  owners  again.  It's  the  restora- 
tion of  our  house."  His  voice  sank  a  little.  "  And  it 
would  come  through  her  and  Leonard  Octon!"  Si- 
lence came  again  for  a  while;  then  he  turned  round 
and  faced  me.  "  I've  no  right  to  decide  this  question. 
She  has  taken  the  decision  out  of  my  hand  by  this. 
I  have  memories,  resentments,  what  I  think  to  be 
wrongs  and  humiliations.  Perhaps  I  have  cause  for 
thinking  so." 

'  I  wasn't  sent  here  to  deny  that,  Lord  Fillingford. 


A    FRESH    COAT    OF    PAINT  391 

If  that  hadn't  been  so,  not  I  should  have  been  here, 
but  she  who  sent  me." 

"  And  so,"  he  went  on  slowly,  "  I'm  no  judge.  I 
should  sin  against  my  conscience  if  I  were  to  judge. 
The  question  is  not  for  me — let  her  go  to  Amyas 
himself." 

I  was  glad  at  heart — we  had  escaped  bullying;  only 
in  one  moment  of  temper  had  I  hinted  at  it,  and  that 
moment  seemed  now  far  away.  It  was  easy  to  see  the 
defects  of  this  man,  and  easier  still  to  feel  them  as  a 
vaguely  chilling  influence.  His  virtues  were  harder 
to  see  and  to  appreciate — his  justice,  his  candor  of 
mind,  his  rectitude,  the  humility  beneath  his  pride. 

"  Lord  Lacey  attaches  enormous  importance  to 
your  opinion.  I  know  that  as  well  as  you  do.  Can't  you 
go  a  little  further?  " 

"  I  thought  I  had  gone  about  as  far  as  could  be 
expected." 

'  Not  quite.  Won't  you  tell  your  son  what  you 
would  do  if  you  were  in  his  place?" 

"  I  think  you'd  better  not  ask  me  to  do  that.  I'm 
less  sure  of  what  I  should  do  than  I  am  of  what  he 
will  do.  What  he'll  do  will,  I  think,  content  you — I 
might  think  too  much  of  who  his  father  is,  and  of 
who  her  father  was,  and  from  whose  hand  these 
splendid  benefits  come.  I  think  I'd  better  not  advise 
Amyas." 

'  But  you'll  accept  his  decision?  You'll  not  dis- 
suade him?  " 

'  I  daren't  dissuade  him,"  he  answered  briefly  and 
turned  his  back  on  me  again.  He  added  in  a  tone  that 
at   least   strove   to  be   lighter,   "  My   grandchildren 


392  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

might  rise  up  and  call  me  cursed!  But  if  she  looks 
for  thanks — not  from  this  generation!  ': 

For  the  first  time — though  I  sacrifice  finally  my 
character  for  morality  by  that  confession — I  was 
genuinely,  in  my  heart  and  not  in  my  pretenses  or 
professions,  inclined  to  regret  the  night  at  Hatcham 
Ford — the  discovery  and  the  flight.  All  said,  he  was 
a  man.  After  much  conflict  they  might  have  come 
together.  If  she  had  known  then  that  it  was  man 
against  man — not  man  against  name,  title,  position, 
respectability  —  why,  the  case  might  have  seemed 
changed,  the  issue  have  been  different.  But  he  was 
so  seldom  able  to  show  what  he  was.  He  had  no 
spontaneous  power  of  expressing  himself;  the  revela- 
tion had  to  be  wrung  out  by  force — peine  forte  et 
dure;  he  had  to  be  pressed  almost  to  death  before  he 
would  plead  for  himself,  for  his  case,  for  what  he  felt 
deep  down  within  him.  All  that  was  too  late  to  think 
about — unless  some  day,  in  the  future,  it  might  avail 
to  make  them  decently  friendly — avail  against  the 
deep  wound  to  pride  on  one  side,  against  the  obsti- 
nate championship  of  the  dead  on  the  other. 

But  to-day  he  had  opened  himself  frankly  enough 
to  absolve  me  from  formalities. 

"  Gratitude  isn't  asked.  I  imagine  that  the  proper 
forms  would  be." 

He  turned  to  me  very  quickly.  "  I'm  on  terms  of 
acquaintance  with  a  lady,  or  I'm  not.  If  I  am,  I  hope 
that  I  omit  no  courtesy." 

"  Nor  give  ft  grudgingly?  " 

"  She  told  you  to  say  that?  " 

"  No — nor   some   other   things   I've   said.    But    I 


A    FRESH    COAT    OF    PAINT  393 

know  how  she'd  take  any  paring  down  of  what  is 
requisite."  I  ventured  a  smile  at  him.  "  You  would 
have  to  call,  I  think,  to-morrow."  I  let  that  sink  in. 
"  And  Lady  Sarah  a  few  days  afterwards." 

He  gave  a  short  laugh.  "  You're  speaking  of  mat- 
ters of  course,  if  this  thing  is  decided  as  it  looks  like 


being." 


I  got  up  from  my  chair.  "  I  go  back  with  the  prom- 
ise of  your  neutrality?  "  I  asked. 

"  Neutrality  is  surrender,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  Young  blood  is  in  the  question. 
Besides — as  you  see  yourself — the  prospect  may  to  a 
young  man  seem — rather  dazzling." 

"  Let  me  alone,  Mr.  Austin,  let  me  alone,  for 
God's  sake!" 

"  I  go  the  moment  you  wish  me  to,  Lord  Filling- 
ford.  I  carry  my  answer  with  me — isn't  it  so?  " 

Wonderfully  recovering  himself — with  the  most 
rapid  transition  to  an  orderly  self-composure — he 
came  and  sat  down  at  his  table  again. 

"  I  shall  see  my  son  on  this  matter  directly  after 
lunch.  It  will  be  proper  to  convey  immediate  news 
of  our  decision  to  Breysgate  Priory.  I  shouldn't  like 
— in  the  event  we  both  contemplate — to  appear  tardy 
in  paying  my  respects  to  Miss  Driver.  At  what  hour 
to-morrow  afternoon  do  you  suppose  that  it  would 
be  convenient  to  her  to  receive  me?  " 

"  I  should  think  that  about  four  o'clock  would  be 
quite  convenient,"  I  answered. 

With  that,  I  rose  to  my  feet — my  mission  was 
ended.  Neither  quite  as  we  had  hoped,  nor  quite  as 
we  had  feared.  We  had  not  bullied — we  had  hardly 


394  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

threatened.  If  we  had  bribed,  we  had  not  bribed  the 
man  himself.  He — he  himself — would  have  had  none 
of  us;  for  him — himself — the  betrayal  at  Hatcham 
Ford  governed  the  situation  and  his  feelings  about 
it.  But  he  saw  himself  as  a  trustee — a  trustee  for  un- 
born generations  of  men,  born  to  inherit — yet,  as 
things  stood,  born  more  than  half  disinherited!  There 
was  no  telling  what  Jenny  thought  of.  Very  likely 
she  had  thought  of  that,  when  she  made  her  bribe  no 
mere  provision — nor  even  merely  that  "  handsome 
thing  " — but  the  new  bestowal  of  a  lost  ancestral 
heritage.  Amid  profound  incompatibilities,  they  both 
had  broad  views,  long  outlooks — a  large  conception 
of  the  bearings  of  what  men  do.  Jenny  had  not  been 
so  wrong  in  thinking  of  him — nor  he  in  thinking  that 
he  could  take  her  with  what  she  brought.  Powerfully 
had  Octon,  in  his  rude  irresistible  natural  force,  and 
its  natural  appeal,  broken  the  current,  real  if  subtle, 
between  them. 

I  went  up  to  him,  holding  out  my  hand.  We  had 
won  the  victory;  I  did  not  feel  very  triumphant. 

"  Mr.  Austin,"  he  said,  as  he  shook  hands,  "  we 
make  a  mistake  if  we  expect  not  to  have  done  to  us 
as  we  do  to  others.  I  learn  that  as  I  grow  older.  Do 
you  understand  what  I'm  at,  when  I  say  this?  ': 

"  Not  very  well,  I  confess,  Lord  Fillingford." 

"  Once  I  went  to  Miss  Driver,  holding  what  I  have 
— my  old  name,  my  old  place,  my  position,  my  title 
— I  can't  think  of  anything  they've  given  me  except 
care  and  a  hopeless  sense  of  my  own  inadequacy — 
holding  those  in  my  hand  and  asking  for  her  money. 
I  see  now  the  opposite  thing — she  comes  holding  the 


A    FRESH    COAT    OF    PAINT  395 

money,  and  asks  for  what  I  have.  I  didn't  have  my 
way.  She'll  have  hers." 

"  There  are  the  young  people."  It  was  all  I  had  to 
say. 

"  Ask  her  to  leave  me  a  little  of  my  son.  Because 
there's  no  doubt.  You've  taken  away  all  my  weapons, 
Mr.  Austin." 

"  I  wish  you'd  had  this  conversation  with  her — 
you  two  together." 

He  relapsed  into  his  formal  propriety  of  demeanor. 
'  I  shall,  I  trust,  give  Miss  Driver  no  reason  to  com- 
plain of  any  want  of  courtesy — if  Amyas  persists." 

"  You've  accepted  it  that  he  will." 

(  Yes — that's  truth,"  he  said.  "  I  may  be  ex- 
pected at  Breysgate  to-morrow  at  four." 

"  Then  try  to  make  it  happy!  " 

He  gave  me  a  slow  pondering  look.  "  There  is 
much  between  me  and  her — not  all  against  her  nor 
for  me.  I've  come  to  see  that.  I'll  do  my  best,  Mr. 
Austin." 

He  escorted  me  to  the  door,  and  walked  in  silence 
with  me  down  a  broad  walk,  bordered  on  either  side 
by  stately  trees,  till  we  came  to  his  gates.  He  looked 
up  at  the  venerable  trees,  then  pointed  to  the  tar- 
nished coronets  that  crowned  the  ironwork,  itself 
rather  rusty. 

"  A  fresh  coat  of  paint  wanted!  "  he  observed  with 
his  chilly  smile — and  I  really  did  not  know  whether 
his  remark  involved  a  reference  to  our  previous  con- 
versation or  not. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

PEDIGREE    AND    BIOGRAPHY 

THE  forms  were  observed  most  punctiliously; 
but  before  the  forms  began  came  Lacey, 
hot  from  his  talk  with  Fillingford,  amazed, 
almost  bewildered,  protesting  against  Jenny's  ex- 
cessive munificence,  passionately  anxious  that  she 
should  be  sure  that  he  had  not  foreseen  it. 

"  And  how  can  you  believe  I  never  thought  of  it, 
when  it's  just  what  I  ought  to  have  thought  of — just 
the  sort  of  thing  you  would  be  sure  to  want  to  do?  ,; 

"  I  haven't  forgotten  your  appalling  misery,  if  you 
have,"  she  retorted,  smiling.  "  I  was  really  afraid 
you'd  kill  yourself  before  Austin  had  time  to  get  to 
the  Manor.  It  was  quite  convincing  as  to  your  inno- 
cence of  my  wicked  designs,  believe  me!'1 

"  But  I  can't  possibly  accept  it,"  he  declared.  "  It's 
so  overwhelming!  " 

"  You're  not  asked  to  accept  a  farthing,  so  you 
needn't  be  the  least  overwhelmed.  I  give  it  to  Mar- 
garet. No  bride  is  to  go  from  Breysgate  without  a 
dowry,  Amyas.  Come,  you'd  put  up  with  ten  times  as 
much  overwhelming  for  her  sake."  She  threatened 
him  playfully:  "  You  can't  have  her  with  any  less — so 
take  your  choice!  " 

396 


PEDIGREE    AND    BIOGRAPHY        397 

"  Well,  we  shall  always  know  who  it  is  that  we  owe 
everything-  to."  He  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it.  She 
looked  at  his  handsome  bowed  head  for  a  moment. 

'  If  you  ever  do  think  of  anybody  in  that  sort  of 
way,  try  not  to  think  of  me  only." 

Standing  upright  again,  he  looked  at  her  gravely. 
'  I  know  what  you  mean."  He  flushed  a  little  and 
hesitated.    '  I   hope  you  know  that — that  he  and   I 
parted — that  day — in  a — a  friendly  way?  " 

'  I  know  it — and  I'm  very  glad,"  she  said.  "  That's 
all  about  the  past,  Amyas,  in  words  at  least.  Keep 
your  thoughts  as  kind  as  you  can — and  be  very  gen- 
tle to  Margaret  when  she  wants  to  talk  about  him. 
That's  a  good  return  to  me,  if  you  want  to  make  any. 
And  love  my  Margaret." 

"  My  love  is  for  her.  My  homage  is  for  you  always 
— and  all  the  affection  you'll  take  with  it,"  he  said 
soberly.  "  It's  little  she'd  think  of  me  if  that  wasn't 
so,"  he  added  with  a  smile. 

Then  came  the  forms,  but  the  first  of  them — Fill- 
ing-ford's coming — was  no  mere  form  to  Jenny.  She 
was  not  afraid  or  perturbed,  as  she  had  been  about 
meeting  Alison — she  had  done  with  confession — but 
she  was  grave,  and  preoccupied  with  it.  She  bade  me 
look  out  for  him  and  bring  him  to  her  in  the  library. 
1  You  must  leave  us  alone,  and  we'll  join  you  at  tea 
in  the  garden  afterwards.  Take  care  that  Margaret  is 
there  when  we  come." 

Nothing  can  be  known  of  what  words  passed  be- 
tween them,  but  Jenny  gave  a  general  description  of 
their  conversation — it  was  not  a  long  one,  lasting 
perhaps  fifteen  minutes.  "  He  met  me  as  if  he'd  never 


398  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

met  me  before,  he  talked  to  me  as  if  he'd  never 
talked  to  me  before.  He  was  a  most  courteous  new 
acquaintance,  hoping  that  our  common  interest  in  the 
pair  would  be  a  bond  of  friendship  between  us.  I  fol- 
lowed the  same  line — and  there  we  were!  But  I 
couldn't  have  done  it  of  myself.  I  tried  to  thank  him 
for  that — that  sort  of  message  you  gave  me  from 
him.  The  first  word  sent  him  straight  back  into  the 
deepest  recesses  of  his  shell — and  I  said,  '  Come  and 
see  Margaret.'  " 

"  Oh,  you'll  make  better  friends  than  that  some 
day."  I  had  no  strong  hope  of  my  words  coming  true. 

"  You  seem  to  have  got  nearer  to  him  than  I  ever 
could.  His  shield's  up  against — Eleanor  Lacey!  But 
he  was  kind  to  Margaret,  wasn't  he?  " 

Yes,  he  had  been  kind  to  Margaret.  He  took  her 
hand  and  looked  in  her  eyes,  then  gravely  kissed  her 
on  the  forehead.  "  We  must  be  friends,  Margaret," 
he  said.  "  I  know  how  much  my  boy  loves  you,  and 
you  are  going  to  take  his  mother's  place  in  my  fam- 
ily." There  was  the  same  curious  quality  of  careful 
deliberation  as  usual — the  old  absence  of  any  touch 
of  spontaneity — the  same  weighing,  out  of  just  the 
right  measure;  but  he  was  obviously  sincere.  He 
looked  on  her  young  beauty  with  a  kindly  liking,  and 
answered  the  appeal  in  her  eyes  by  taking  her  hand 
between  both  his  and  pressing  it  gently.  Margaret 
looked  round  to  Jenny  with  a  smile  of  glad  shy  tri- 
umph. Amyas  came  and  put  his  arm  through  his 
father's. 

"  We  three  are  going  to  be  jolly  good  friends,"  he 
said. 


PEDIGREE    AND    BIOGRAPHY        399 

Far  more  stately  was  the  next  ceremonial — the 
one  that  was,  by  my  stipulation,  to  follow  a  few  days 
later;  yet  I  am  afraid  that  we  at  Breysgate  did  not 
take  Lady  Sarah's  coming  half  so  seriously  as  she 
took  it  herself.  She  had  disapproved  of  us  so  strongly 
before  there  was — to  her  knowledge  at  least — any 
good  ground  for  disapproval  that  her  later  censures, 
however  well-grounded,  had  lost  weight.  Sinners 
cannot  take  much  to  heart  the  blame  of  those  who 
have  always  expected  to  see  them  do  wrong  and 
come  to  grief — and  clapped  themselves  on  the  back 
as  good  prophets  over  the  event! 

Here  was  no  private  interview.  The  whole  of  her 
adherents  surrounded  Jenny  in  the  big  drawing- 
room.  Lady  Sarah  was  announced  by  Loft — himself 
highly  conscious  of  the  ceremonial  nature  of  the  oc- 
casion. With  elaborate  courtesy  Jenny  walked  to  the 
door  to  meet  her,  spoke  her  greeting,  and  led  her  to 
one  of  twTo  large  arm-chairs  placed  close  to  one  an- 
other; it  was  really  like  the  meeting  of  a  pair  of  mon- 
archs,  lately  at  war  but  bound  to  appear  unconscious 
of  the  disagreeable  incidents  of  the  strife.  Now  peace 
was  to  be  patched  up  by  marriage.  Margaret  was 
called  from  her  place  in  the  surrounding  circle.  She 
came — and  with  courage.  We  had,  I  fear,  deliberately 
worked  her  up  to  the  resolution  of  being,  from  the 
very  beginning,  not  afraid  of  Lady  Sarah — pointing 
out  that  any  signs  of  fear  now  would  foreshadow  and 
entail  slavery  for  life.  "  You'll  get  on  much  better  if 
you  stand  up  for  yourself,"  Amyas  himself  assured 
her. 

Margaret   stood,   awaiting  welcome.   Lady   Sarah 


4oo  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

put  on  her  eyeglasses,  made  a  careful  inspection  of 
her  prospective  niece,  but  offered  no  comment  what- 
ever on  her  appearance.  She  dropped  the  glasses 
from  her  nose  again,  and  remarked,  "  I'm  glad  to 
become  acquainted  with  you.  I'm  sure  that  you  in- 
tend to  make  Amyas  a  good  wife  and  to  do  your 
duty  in  your  new  station.  Kiss  me!  "  She  turned  her 
cheek  to  Margaret,  who  achieved  the  salute  with 
grace  but,  it  must  be  confessed,  without  enthusiasm. 
Lady  Sarah  did  not  return  it. 

'  There  will  be  a  great  deal  to  do  and  think  of  at 
Oxley,"  she  pursued,  "  but  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
assist  you  in  every  way." 

'  But  there'll  be  nothing  to  do,  Lady  Sarah. 
Jenny's  doing  everything — every  single  thing." 

"  I'm  going  to  give  them  a  few  sticks  to  start 
housekeeping  on,"  said  Jenny,  with  a  lurking  smile. 

"  Old  houses  have  a  style  of  their  own;  one  learns 
it  by  living  in  one,"  Lady  Sarah  observed.  Oxley 
was  old — so  was  Fillingford  Manor.  Breysgate  was 
hardly  middle-aged  in  comparison.  Lady  Sarah  cast 
a  glance  round  its  regrettable  newness;  Jenny's  re- 
furnishing had  not  availed  to  obliterate  all  traces  of 
that. 

"  I'm  not  following  this  model,"  said  Jenny.  "  I'm 
taking  the  best  advice — though  I'm  sure  Mar- 
garet will  be  very  glad  of  anything  you  can  tell 
her." 

"  Of  course  I  shall,  Lady  Sarah.  But  the  people 
Jenny's  going  to  are  really  the  best  people  in  the 
trade — they  know  all  about  it." 

'  When  you  have  seen  the  Manor — "  Lady  Sarah 


PEDIGREE    AND    BIOGRAPHY         401 

began  impressively,  but  Lacey — who  had  been,  the 
moment  before,  in  lamentable  difficulties  between  a 
yawn  and  a  smile — cut  in: 

"  Ah,  now  when  shall  she  come  and  see  the 
Manor?  " 

Lady  Sarah  was  prepared  with  an  invitation  for 
the  next  day:  that  was  another  of  the  forms,  to  be 
carried  out  precisely,  as  Fillingford  had  undertaken. 
She  turned  to  Jenny.  '  You've  seen  it,  of  course, 
Miss  Driver?  " 

Jenny  nodded  serenely.  Aymas  flushed  again — his 
fair  skin  betrayed  every  passing  feeling — as  he  said, 
"  We  shall  be  delighted  if  we  can  induce  Miss  Driver 
to  come,  all  the  same." 

'  Oh,  very  delighted,  very,  I'm  sure,"  agreed 
Lady  Sarah. 

"  You'll  enjoy  showing  it  to  Margaret  all  by  your- 
self much  better,"  said  Jenny  to  Amyas.  "  I'll  come 
another  day  soon,  and  have  tea  with  Lady  Sarah,  if 
she'll  let  me." 

'  Very  delighted,  very,"  Lady  Sarah  repeated. 

She  rose  to  take  leave;  this  time  she  did  herself 
kiss  Margaret  on  the  cheek.  I  think  we  were  all  wait- 
ing to  see  whether,  in  her  opinion,  the  terms  of 
the  treaty  demanded  a  kiss  for  Jenny  also.  Lady 
Sarah  decided  in  the  negative;  Jenny's  particularly 
erect  head,  as  she  held  out  her  hand,  may  have 
aided — and  certainly  welcomed — the  conclusion.  We 
escorted  her  to  her  carriage  with  most  honorable 
ceremony.  Then  we  sighed  relief — save  Chat,  who 
had  been,  from  a  modest  background,  an  admiring 
spectator  of  the   scene.   "  She's  not  very   effusive," 


4o2  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

said  Chat,  "  but  she  has  the  grand  manner,  hasn't 
she,  Mr.  Austin?  " 

"  I  never  knew  what  it  really  meant  till  to-day, 
Miss  Chatters." 

"  She  probably  never  hated  anything  so  much  in 
her  whole  life,"  Jenny  remarked  to  me,  when  we 
were  next  alone  together,"  so  it's  really  hardly  fair 
to  criticise  her  manner.  But  I  rejoice  from  the  bot- 
tom of  my  heart  that  she  didn't  think  it  necessary 
to  kiss  me." 

"  Since  you  escaped  this  time,  I  should  think  you 
might  escape  altogether." 

"  Well,  the  wedding  day  will  be  a  point  of  dan- 
ger," she  reminded  me,  "  but  I'm  pretty  safe  against 
its  becoming  habitual.  We  both  hate  the  idea  of  it 
too  much  for  that." 

Then — a  week  later — came  the  public  announce- 
ment, made  duly  and  in  due  form  in  the  Times  and 
Herald:  "  Between  Lord  Lacey,  son  and  heir  of  the 
Right  Honorable  the  Earl  of  Fillingford,  and  Mar- 
garet, daughter  of  the  late  Leonard  Octon,  Esq." 
The  sensation  is  not  to  be  described.  So  many  things 
were  explained,  so  many  mysteries  cleared  up!  Folks 
knew  now  why  Lacey  had  been  so  much  at  Breys- 
gate,  Sir  John  Aspenick  learned  for  whom  Oxley 
Lodge  was  wanted,  and  Cartmell  understood  why 
he  had  been  forced  to  disburse  that  much  grudged 
five  hundred  pounds  for  early  possession.  For,  with 
the  announcement,  came  an  inspired  leading  article, 
revealing  the  main  terms  of  the  proposed  settlement; 
a  little  discretion  was  exercised  as  to  the  exact  fig- 
ures, but  enough  was  said  to  show  that,  besides  the 


PEDIGREE    AND    BIOGRAPHY        403 

gift  of  the  Oxley  Grange  estate  as  it  stood,  there 
were  large  sums  to  pass  both  now  and  in  the  future. 
Let  the  parties  have  been  who  they  might,  such  a 
transaction  would  have  commanded  the  universal  at- 
tention of  the  countryside;  when  it  took  place  be- 
tween Lord  Fillingford's  heir  and  the  late  Mr. 
Octon's  only  daughter,  people  with  memories  re- 
called and  retold  their  stories,  and  found  newcomers 
ready  indeed  to  listen.  Once  again  Jenny  filled  all 
Catsford  and  all  the  neighborhood  with  gossip,  spec- 
ulation, and  applause. 

"  I  told  you  you'd  have  to  undo  the  purse-strings 
to  some  style,"  I  said  to  Cartmell.  "  What  do  you 
think  of  this,  Mr.  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer?  " 

He  winked  his  eye  at  me  solemnly.  "  It's  great," 
he  said.  "What  a  mind  she  has!  There  she'll  sit  at 
Breysgate — with  the  town  under  one  foot,  and  Fill- 
ingford  and  Oxley  under  the  other!" 

"Hardly  that!"  I  smiled. 

'  Look  what  she's  giving  now!  Aye,  and,  my  boy, 
think  of  what  she's  still  got  left  to  give!  If  human 
nature  goes  on  being  what  it's  been  ever  since  I  re- 
member, Miss  Driver's  word  will  be  law  in  both 
those  houses — if  not  now,  in  a  few  years  at  all  events. 
It's  a  lot  of  money — but  it's  not  ill-spent.  It  makes 
her  the  queen  of  the  place,  Austin!  "  He  laughed  in 
enjoyment.  "  I  wish  old  Nick  Driver  could  see  this! 
He'd  be  proud  of  his  daughter." 

'•'  However  much  or  little  that  may  be  the  result, 
I'm  sure  it  was  not  her  object." 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  good-humored  pity;  he 
thought  me  a  fool  in  practical  matters.  "  Have  that 


4o4  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

as  you  like,"  he  said,  "  but  she  won't  object  to  the 
result  —  nor  waste  it,  either  —  I  promise  you."  He 
chuckled  again.  "  She's  got  back  at  them  with  a  ven- 
geance! " 

It  was  true.  Never  even  in  the  days  before  the 
flight  did  she  make  such  a  figure.  The  Aspenicks 
surrendered  at  discretion,  Fillingford  Manor  was  in 
forced  alliance,  Oxley  Lodge  was  annexed;  Hing- 
ston  did  not  hold  out  long,  and  Dormer,  placated 
by  a  big  price  for  his  farms,  put  his  pride  and  his 
sulks  where  he  had  put  the  money.  The  town  was 
at  Jenny's  feet,  even  if  it  were  an  exaggeration  to 
say  that  it  was  under  them.  Timeservers  bowed  the 
knee  to  so  much  power;  the  charitable  accepted  so 
splendid  an  atonement.  If  any  still  had  conscientious 
doubts,  Alison's  conduct  was  invoked  as  warrant  and 
example.  If  he  were  enthusiastically  for  the  mistress 
of  Breysgate  now,  who  had  a  right  to  criticise — who 
could  arrogate  to  himself  such  merit  as  would  en- 
title him  to  refuse  to  forgive — even  though  a  cer- 
tain feature  in  the  arrangement  made  it  forever  im- 
possible to  forget? 

The  chorus  of  applause  was  loud — and  almost 
unanimous;  but  it  was  broken  by  the  voice  of  one 
sturdy  dissenter — one  to  whom  interest  could  not 
appeal  and,  even  had  she  wanted  anything  of  Jenny, 
would  have  appealed  vainly — one  on  whom  the  sen- 
timental side  had  no  effect,  since  both  her  sentiment 
and  her  charity  moved  in  the  strait  fetters  of  un- 
bending rules.  Mrs.  Jepps  was  rigid  and  obstinate. 
She  had  not  fallen  to  the  temptation  of  using  the 
park  road,  as  Lady  Aspenick  had:  she  would  not  now 


PEDIGREE    AND    BIOGRAPHY         405 

bow  the  knee  to  Baal,  however  splendid  and  impos- 
ing a  deity  Baal  might  be.  Many  had  a  try  at  shak- 
ing her — and  Alison  among  the  rest,  lie  told  me 
about  his  effort,  laughing  as  he  confessed  his  failure. 

"  I  was  well  snubbed.  She  told  me  that  Romish 
practices  led  to  Romish  principles,  and  that  where 
they  led  it  was  easy  to  see;  but  that  she  for  her  part 
had  other  principles  and  didn't  palter  with  them. 
When  it  suited  Miss  Driver  to  explain,  she  was 
ready  to  listen.  Till  then — nothing  to  do  with  the 
woman!  " 

Jenny  heard  of  this — her  one  signal  failure  (for 
she  had  extorted  alliance,  if  not  loyalty,  from  Lady 
Sarah)  with  composure,  almost  with  pleasure,  al- 
though pleasure  of  an  unusual  variety. 

"  Well,  I  respect  Mrs.  Jepps,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
wish  very  much  that  she  wouldn't  deprive  herself  of 
her  drives  in  the  park.  I'd  promise  not  to  bow  to 
her!  Mrs.  Jepps  is  good  for  me,  Austin — a  fat,  be- 
nevolent, disapproving  old  skeleton  at  the  feast — a 
skeleton  with  such  fat  horses! — crying  out  '  You  did 
it,  you  did  it! '  That's  rather  useful  to  me,  I  expect. 
Still  I  should  like  " — she  smiled  mischievously — "  to 
try  her  virtue  a  little  higher — with  an  invitation  to 
the  laying  of  the  foundation  stone!  I'm  going  to  have 
that  in  four  or  five  months,  and  Mr.  Bindlecombe  is 
angling  for  a  prince  to  do  it.  If  Mrs.  Jepps  holds  out 
against  the  prince,  she  has  my  leave  to  hold  out 
against  me  forever!  " 

Still  it  was  her  instinct  to  conquer  opponents,  even 
when  her  judgment  indorsed  their  opposition  and 
her  feelings  did  not  resent  it. 


4c6  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

'  If  she  were  a  young  woman,  you'd  get  her  at 
last,"  I  said,  "  but  she's  very  old.  She'll  go  to  heaven 
before  you've  time;  I  can  only  hope,  for  the  sake 
of  this  household,  that  she  won't  be  made  a  door- 
keeper, or  we  may  as  well  give  up  all  hope  and  take 
what  chances  await  us  elsewhere." 

"  Let  her  be,"  said  Jenny.  "  She  only  serves  me 
as  all  the  rest  would  have  done,  if  I  hadn't  in- 
herited Nick  Driver's  money.  I've  beaten  them  with 
that." 

"  That's  not  the  way  you  beat  Alison,"  I  reminded 
her. 

Her  face  had  been  hard  as  she  referred  to  the 
power  of  her  money;  it  softened  at  the  mention  of 
Alison's  name.  "  It  was  more  Margaret's  victory 
than  mine.  I  like  best  to  fight  with  Margaret;  that's 
a  clean  sword,  Austin.  When  I'm  fighting  with  and 
for  her,  then  I'm  right.  But  right  or  wrong,  you 
wouldn't  have  me  beaten?  " 

"  You've  no  right  to  impute  any  such  immoral 
doctrine  to  me." 

"  By  now,  I  think  I  have,"  she  laughed.  "  I  won- 
der how  soon  Lady  Sarah  will  tell  Margaret  all  about 
me!" 

"  I  don't  think  she  will — and,  if  she  did,  you'd 
never  know  it." 

Jenny  smiled.  "  Yes,  I  should.  Some  day — for  no 
apparent  reason — Margaret  would  come  and  kiss  me 
extraordinarily  often."  She  gave  a  shake  of  her  head. 
"  I'd  rather  it  didn't  happen,  though." 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that,  during  her  Filling- 
ford  campaign,  Jenny  had  neglected  her  Institute. 


PEDIGREE    AND    BIOGRAPHY         407 

No  day  had  passed  without  talk  or  correspondence 
about  it,  and  she  had  been  in  constant  consultation 
with  Bindlecombe,  Chairman  of  the  Committee  of 
the  Corporation  in  whose  charge  the  scheme  was. 
Fruits  of  the  activity  had  now  appeared.  The  gar- 
dens of  Hatcham  Ford  had  been  laid  waste.  (O 
Bindlecombe,  what  of  your  deceitful  promises  to 
spare  them?)  Only  the  shrubberies  in  front  (where 
Lacey  had  once  hidden)  remained  of  the  old  pleas- 
sure  grounds.  Everywhere  else  were  excavations,  or 
lines  that  marked  foundations  to  be  laid;  already  in 
some  spots  actual  buildings  poked  their  noses  out  of 
the  earth,  their  raw  red  brick  shamed  by  the  mellow 
beauty  of  the  old  house  which  still  stood  and  was 
to  stand  as  the  center  of  the  architectural  scheme. 
Like  all  things  with  which  Jenny  had  to  do,  the  plan 
had  grown  larger  and  larger  as  it  progressed,  took 
more  ground,  embraced  more  projects,  swallowed 
more  money.  It  spread  across  the  road,  absorbed  the 
garden  of  Ivydene,  and  happily  involved  the  destruc- 
tion of  that  odious  villa  of  unpleasant  memories.  It 
made  inroads  on  Cartmell's  money-bags  till — what 
with  it,  and  Margaret's  great  endowment,  to  say 
nothing  of  Dormer's  fields — rich  Miss  Driver  was 
for  two  or  three  months  positively  hard  up  for  ready 
money!  But  the  result  was  to  be  magnificent;  with 
every  fresh  brick  and  every  additional  sovereign, 
Catsford  grew  more  loyal,  and  the  prospect  of  catch- 
ing that  prince  more  promising.  "  And  I'm  going  to 
get  Mr.  Bindlecombe  made  Mayor  again  next  year, 
and  Amyas  must  pull  all  the  wires  in  London  town 
to  get  him  a  knighthood.  With  Margaret  and  Amyas 


4oS  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

married,  the  Institute  opened,  and  Mr.  Bindlecombe 
Sir  John,  I  think  I  may  sing  Nunc  Dimittis,  Austin!  " 
"  We  might  perhaps  look  forward  to  a  short  period 
of  peace,"  I  admitted  cautiously. 

'  Come  down  and  look  at  the  old  place  once  more, 
before  it's  changed  quite  out  of  recognition.  Just  you 
and  I  together!  " 

We  went  down  together  one  evening  in  the  dusk. 
Architects  and  surveyors,  clerks,  masons,  and  la- 
borers had  all  gone  home  to  their  rest.  The  place  was 
quiet  for  the  night,  though  the  rents  in  the  ground 
and  the  rising  walls  spoke  loud  of  the  toils  of  the 
day.  The  old  house  stood  unchanged  in  the  middle 
of  it  all;  unchanged,  too,  was  the  path  down  which 
Jenny  had  passed  after  she  begged  the  loan  of  Lord 
Fillingford's  carriage.  She  took  a  key  from  her  purse 
and  opened  the  door  of  the  house.  "  Let's  go  in  for 
a  minute." 

She  led  me  into  the  room  where  once  I  had  waited 
for  her — where,  another  time,  I  had  found  her  hold- 
ing Powers's  head,  where  Fillingford  had  come  upon 
us  in  the  very  instant  when  I  had  hailed  safety  as  in 
sight.  The  room  was  just  as  Octon  had  left  it — his 
heavy  dining  table,  his  ugly  dining  chairs,  the  two 
old  leather  ones  on  each  side  of  the  fireplace,  his 
spears  and  knives  on  the  wall.  And  there,  too,  on 
the  mantelpiece,  was  the  picture  of  the  beautiful  child 
which  I  had  marked  as  missing  when  I  reached  the 
house  that  night. 

"  You've  been  here  before,"  I  said  to  Jenny,  point- 
ing at  the  picture. 

"  I  found  it   among  his  papers   after   he   was  at 


PEDIGREE    AND    BIOGRAPHY         409 

peace,"  she  answered,  sitting  down  in  one  of  the 
old  leather  chairs.  "  I  knew  this  was  its  place;  it  has 
returned  to  it.  And  there  it  will  stay,  so  long  as  I 
or  Margaret  have  a  voice  here.  Yes,  I  have  been 
here  before — and  I  shall  be  here  often.  This  is  to  be 
my  room — sacred  to  me.  From  here  I  shall  pull  the 
wires!  "  She  smiled  at  me  in  a  humorous  sadness. 

'  Not  the  wires  of  memory  too  often!  "   I   sug- 
gested. 

"  Two  men  have  made  me  and  my  life — made  me 
what  I  am  and  my  life  what  it  is  and  is  to  be.  Here 
— in  this  place — they  meet.  This  room  is  Leonard's 
— all  the  great  thing  that's  coming  into  being  out- 
side is  my  father's.  They  appreciated  one  another, 
you've  told  me — and  so  has  Leonard.  They  won't 
mind  meeting  here,  Austin." 

"They  neither  of  them  did  justice  to  you!"  I 
cried.  "Was  the  Smalls  and  the  Simpsons  justice? 
And  was  what  he — the  other — let  you  do  justice 
either?  " 

"  I  don't  know — and  I  don't  care,"  said  Jenny. 
'  They  were  both  big  men.  They  had  their  work, 
their  views,  their  plans,  their  occupations.  They  had 
their  big  lives,  their  big  selves,  to  look  after.  They 
couldn't  spend  all  the  time  thinking  whether  they 
were  doing  justice  to  a  woman!  " 

'That's  a  nice  bit  of  special  pleading!"   I   said. 
'  But  there,  I'm  not  a  great  man — as  both  of  your 
big  men  have,  on  occasion,  plainly  told  me." 

She  smiled  at  me  affectionately.  "  But  one  of  them 
gave  me — in  the  end — all  he  had,  and  for  the  other 
I — in  the  end — would  have  given  all  I  had.  Oh,  yes, 


4io  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

it's  '  in  the  end  '  with  us  Drivers — because  we  must 
try  to  get  everything  first — before  we  are  ready  to 
give!  But  in  the  end  all  was  given  or  ready  to  be 
given,  and  here  they  shall  stay  together.  I  have  no 
pedigree,  Austin,  and  I  shall  have  no  biography. 
Here  stand  both.  At  Hatcham  Ford  read  my  pedi- 
gree and  my  biography." 

The  room  grew  dark,  but  her  pale  face  stood  out 
against  the  gloom.  She  rose  from  her  chair  and  came 
up  to  me. 

"  My  big  ghosts  are  very  gentle  to  me  now — > 
gentler  than  one  would  have  been  in  life,  I  think — ■ 
gentler  than  the  other  was.  You  see,  they're  at  rest 
— their  warfare  is  accomplished.  I  think  mine's  ac- 
complished, too,  Austin,  and  I  will  rest." 

"  Not  you!  Rest  indeed!  " 

"  I  may  work,  and  yet  be  at  peace  in  my  heart. 
Come,  my  friend,  let's  go  back  home.  Amyas  dines 
with  us  to-night.  Let's  go  back  home,  to  the  hap- 
piness which  God — Allah  the  All-Merciful — has  al- 
lowed me,  sinner  that  I  am,  to  make." 

Through  the  soft  evening  we  walked  back  to 
where  Amyas  and  Margaret  were. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 


A    MAN    OF    BUSINESS 


BEHOLD  us  all  engaged  in  laying  the  founda- 
tion stone  of  the  Memorial  Hall,  which  was 
to  be  the  most  imposing  feature,  if  not  the 
most  useful  part,  of  the  great  Driver  Institute.  At 
least — not  quite  all  of  us.  Lady  Sarah  had  begun,  by 
now,  her  habit  of  making  long  sojourns  at  Bath,  re- 
turning to  Fillingford  Manor  from  time  to  time  on 
visits.  These  were  usually  arranged  to  coincide  with 
Jenny's  absences — in  London  or  on  the  Riviera — 
but  one  had  not  been  arranged  to  coincide  with  the 
laying  of  Jenny's  foundation  stone.  And  Mrs.  Jepps 
was  not  there — although  she  had  been  invited  to  have 
the  honor  of  meeting  His  Royal  Highness.  There 
Jenny  had  to  accept  defeat.  But  all  the  rest  gathered 
round  her  from  borough  and  from  county — Filling- 
ford  stiff  but  friendly,  the  Aspenicks  as  friendly  as 
if  they  had  never  been  stiff,  Dormer  forgetful  of  his 
injuries,  Alison  to  bless  the  undertaking,  Lord  and 
Lady  Lacey,  fresh  back  from  their  honeymoon, 
Cartmell — and  Sir  John  Bindlecombe!  He  was  not 
actually  Sir  John  yet,  but  His  Royal  Highness — who 
did  his  part  excellently,  but  confided  wistfully  to 
Cartmell  that  it  was  a  splendid  hunting  morning — 

4H 


4i2  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

was  the  bearer  of  a  certain  gracious  intimation  which 
made  us  give  the  Mayor  and  Chairman  of  the  Re- 
ception Committee  brevet  rank  at  once.  Sir  John, 
then,  held  the  mortar,  while  Jenny  herself  handed 
the  silver-gilt  trowel.  His  Royal  Highness  well  and 
truly  laid  the  stone,  making  thereafter  a  very  pleas- 
ant little  speech,  concerning  the  interest  which  his 
Family  took  and  had  always  taken  in  institutes,  and 
the  achievements  and  sterling  British  qualities  of  the 
man  we  were  there  to  commemorate,  the  late  Mr. 
Nicholas  Driver  of  Breysgate  Priory.  It  had  been 
my  privilege  to  coach  His  Royal  Highness  in  the 
latter  subject,  and  he  did  full  justice  to  my  tuition. 
That  done,  he  added  a  few  graceful  words  of  his  own 
concerning  the  munificent  lady  who  stood  by  his 
side,  and  the  men  of  Catsford  cheered  Jenny  till  they 
were  hoarse.  Amyas  Lacey  and  Bindlecombe  jumped 
forward  to  lead  the  cheers,  and  four  or  five  eminent 
men  of  science,  whom  I  had  contrived  to  induce  to 
come  down,  to  add  to  the  glory  of  the  occasion, 
joined  in  with  a  will.  After  that — luncheon  for  us, 
dinner  for  half  the  population;  and  a  brass  band  and 
a  procession  to  conduct  His  Royal  Highness  back 
to  the  station.  His  way  lay  past  Mrs.  Jepps's  win- 
dow; so  I  hope  that  she  saw  him  after  all — without 
a  stain  on  her  principles! 

"That's  done,  anyhow!"  said  Jenny.  "Now  the 
real  work  can  go  ahead!  " 

The  next  morning  after  this  eventful  day  she  dis- 
missed me — summarily  and  without  warning. 

"  You  must  go,  Austin,"  she  told  me.  "  I've  been 
very  selfish,   and   I'm   very   ignorant.   Of  course   I 


A    MAN    OF    BUSINESS  413 

realized  that  your  books  are  very  clever,  though  I 
don't  understand  them,  but  till  I  heard  what  those 
great  pundits  you  brought  down  said  about  you,  I 
didn't  know  what  I  was  doing.  You  mustn't  waste 
your  time  writing  notes  and  doing  accounts  for  a 
provincial  spinster." 

"  And  are  you  going  to  write  the  notes  and  do 
the  accounts  yourself?"  I  asked.  "Or  is  Chat?" 

"I'm  going  to  pension  Chat;  she's  got  a  horrid 
cough,  poor  thing,  and  will  do  much  better  in  a  snug 
little  villa  at  the  seaside.  I've  got  my  eye  on  one  for 
her.  I  shall  get  a  smart  young  woman,  who  dresses 
nicely,  looks  pretty,  and  knows  something  about 
frocks  and  millinery — which  last  necessary  accom- 
plishment of  a  lady's  private  secretary  you  have 
never  even  tried  to  acquire." 

"  Dear  me,  no  more  I  have!  It  never  occurred  to 
me  before.  I  left  it  to  Chat!  Do  you  think  I  could 
learn  it  now?  " 

i  I've  the  very  greatest  doubts  about  it,"  an- 
swered Jenny,  deceitfully  grave.  "  Go  away,  and 
write  more  books."  She  shook  her  head  at  me  re- 
proachfully. "  To  think  you  never  told  me  what  I  was 
doing!  " 

'  I  suppose  you're  aware  that  you  pay  me  four 
hundred  pounds  a  year?  " 

"  So  did  my  father.  I  suppose  he  knew  what  the 
proper  salary  was." 

'  But  you  don't  know  perhaps  how  much  I've 
made  out  of  these  marvelous  books  in  the  last  four 
years?  It  amounts  to  the  sum  of  twenty-seven 
pounds,  four  shillings,  and  twopence.  Your  new  sec- 


414  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

retary    will   tell    you    in   a   minute   how   much   that 
works  out  at  per  annum." 

"  Goodness! ':  murmured  Jenny.  "  Oh,  but,  of 
course,  I  should " 

"  Of  course  you'd  do  nothing  of  the  kind!  Time 
has  consecrated  my  claim  to  be  overpaid  for  ineffi- 
cient services — but  I  won't  be  pensioned  off  into  a 
villa  with  Chat!  Here  I  stay — or  out  I  go — to  a  gar- 
ret and  starvation!  " 

"And  fame!" 

"  Oh,  humbug!  As  for  my  work,  you  know  I've 
more  time  here  than  I  want." 

"  You  really  won't  go?  I  shall  have  the  clever  girl, 
you  know — for  the  notes  and  the  accounts!  " 

"  Have  the  girl,  and  be — satisfied  with  that!" 

"  You  really  refuse  to  leave  me,  Austin?  ': 

"  This  is  my  home,"  I  said.  "  Here  I  stay  till  I'm 
turned  out." 

She  came  to  me  and  put  her  arm  through  mine. 
"  If  this  is  your  home,  nobody  shall  turn  you  out — 
neither  before  my  death  nor  after  it.  As  long  as  you 
live,  the  Old  Priory  is  there  for  you.  Even  you  can't 
refuse  that?  " 

'  No,  I  won't  refuse  that.  Let  me  stop  in  the  Old 
Priory  and  do  the  odd  jobs." 

She  pressed  my  arm  gently.  "  It  would  have 
been  very  curious  to  have  nobody  to  talk  to  about 
things — especially  about  the  old  things."  Her  voice 
shook  a  little.  "  Very  curious — and  very  desolate, 
Austin!" 

It  is  now  a  good  many  years  since  we  had  that 
conversation — and  we  have  never  had  another  like  it. 


A    MAN    OF    BUSINESS  415 

I  must  plead  guilty  to  one  or  two  books,  but  I  man- 
age to  save  a  little  of  Jenny's  work  from  the  clutches 
of  the  clever  girl,  and  old  Cartmell  is  on  the  shelf — 
so  I  get  some  of  his;  and  still  I  dwell  in  the  little  Old 
Priory  under  the  shadow  of  big  Breysgate  on  the 
hill  above.  Changes  have  come  elsewhere.  There  are 
children  at  Oxley  Lodge;  the  succession  is  prosper- 
ously— and  indeed  amply — secured.  Mrs.  Jepps  has 
departed  this  life — stubborn  to  the  last  in  her  pro- 
test; a  donor,  who  was,  and  insisted  on  remaining, 
anonymous,  has  founded  a  Jepps  Scholarship  at  the 
Institute  "  as  a  mark  of  respect  for  her  honorable 
life  and  consistent  high  principle  ";  I  am  inclined  to 
hope  that  Mrs.  Jepps  is  not  permitted  to  know  who 
that  donor  was.  Lady  Sarah  is  gone,  too,  and  Alison 
has  been  promoted  to  a  suffragan  bishopric.  But  over 
us  at  Breysgate  no  change  passes,  save  the  gentle 
change  of  the  revolving  years — unless  it  be  that  with 
every  year  Jenny's  sway  increases.  Down  in  Catsford 
they  have  nicknamed  her  "  The  Empress."  The  seat 
of  empire  is  at  Breysgate;  by  her  proconsuls  she  gov- 
erns the  borough,  Oxley,  even  Fillingford  Manor; 
for  though  its  rigid  master  has  never  become  her 
friend,  has  no  more  passed  than  he  has  fallen  short 
of  the  limits  of  punctilious  courtesy  which  he  ac- 
cepted, yet  in  all  business  matters  he  leans  more  and 
more  on  her.  So  her  power  spreads,  and  will  increase 
yet  more  when,  in  due  course,  Lacey  and  Margaret 
take  possession  of  the  Manor.  The  despotism  is 
veiled;  she  is  only  First  Citizen,  like  Augustus  him- 
self. She  will  grow  no  richer — "  There  is  more  than 
enough  for  them  after  I  am  gone  " — and  pours  back 


4i6  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

into  the  town  and  the  countryside  all  that  she  re- 
ceives from  them — pattern  et  circenses — and  better 
things  than  that.  The  Institute  is  even  such  a  model 
to  all  institutes  as  Bindlecombe  would  have  it;  his 
dream  of  its  broadening  into  a  university  is  an  openly 
avowed  project  now.  No  wonder  that  by  public  sub- 
scription they  have  placed  a  portrait  of  her  in  the 
Memorial  Hall,  facing  the  picture  of  Nicholas  Driver 
which  she  herself  presented.  From  where  she  hangs, 
she  can  see  the  old  roof  of  Hatcham  Ford,  sur- 
rounded and  dwarfed  by  the  great  buildings  that  she 
has  erected.  The  painter  of  Jenny's  portrait  never 
saw  the  Eleanor  Lacey  at  Fillingford  Manor — indeed 
it  has  gone  from  its  old  place,  and  is  to  be  found 
somewhere  in  a  cupboard,  as  I  suspect — but  the  like- 
ness is  indubitably  there,  all  undesigned.  You  see  it 
in  the  firm  lips  and  jaw,  in  the  straight  brows  on  the 
pale  face,  above  all  in  the  hazel  eyes,  so  bright  and 
yet  profound.  Eleanor  Lacey  had  little  luck  after  her 
luckless  flirtation.  Fortune  has  been  kinder  to  Jenny. 
She  has  a  full  life,  a  good  life,  a  very  useful  one.  The 
story  has  grown  old;  the  name  of  Octon  is  merged; 
time  has  obliterated  well-nigh  all  the  tracks  she  made 
in  her  evening  flight  from  Hatcham  Ford. 

Yet  not  in  her  heart;  there  is  no  obliteration  there, 
but  rather  an  indelible  stamp;  it  may  be  covered  up 
— it  cannot  be  sponged  or  scratched  out.  For  her, 
Leonard  is  not  forgotten;  he  triumphs.  He  lives 
again  in  the  son  of  Margaret  his  daughter;  in  the 
person  of  that  son — his  grandson — he  is  to  reign 
where  he  was  spurned.  That  is  the  triumph  of  the 
scheme  she  made — and  to  her  it  is  Leonard's  tri- 


A    MAN    OF    BUSINESS  417 

umph.  In  her  eyes  her  own  triumphs  are  little  beside 
that. 

"  My  day  is  done,"  she  said  to  me  once.  "  Bad  it 
was,  I  suppose,  and  God  knows  that  it  was  short! 
But  it  was  my  day,  and  it  is  over."  But  she  did  not 
speak  in  sorrow.  "  I  am  content — and  at  peace." 
She  broke  into  a  smile.  "  Don't  think  of  me  as  a 
woman  any  more.  Think  of  me  as  just  a  man  of  busi- 
ness! " 

A  man  of  business  she  is — and  a  very  fine  one; 
tactful  and  conciliatory,  daring  and  subtle.  But  not  a 
woman?  Never  was  there  more  a  woman  since  the 
world  began — never  one  who  leaned  more  on  her 
woman's  power,  nor  turned  the  arts  of  woman  more 
to  practical  account.  She  has  had  many  wooers; 
Dormer  returned  to  the  charge  three  or  four  times, 
till  at  last  he  fell  back — in  a  mood  little  above  resig- 
nation— on  Eunice  Aspenick;  we  have  had  an  ambi- 
tious young  merchant  from  Catsford,  a  curate  or  two, 
and  one  splendid  aspirant,  a  former  brother-officer  of 
Lacey's,  a  man  of  great  name  and  station.  All  went 
away  with  the  same  answer — but  all  were  sent  away 
friends,  praisers  of  Jenny,  convinced,  I  think,  that 
they  had  only  just  failed  and  that  no  other  man  could 
have  come  so  near  success.  There  lies  her  instinct, 
and  she  cannot  help  using  it — sometimes  for  her 
purposes,  sometimes  for  her  instinctive  pleasure, 
which  is  still  to  lose  no  adherent,  and  to  make  friends 
even  in  refusing  to  be  more.  She  will  not  marry,  but 
she  is  marriageable — eminently  marriageable — and 
that  is  as  much  an  asset  now  as  when  she  threatened 
to  use  it  against  Lord  Fillingford  if  he  would  not 


418  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

take  her  bribe.  Not  a  woman?  How  little  we  know  of 
ourselves,  Jenny!  Is  not  her  great  triumph — Leon- 
ard's triumph,  for  which  she  planned  and  wrought 
and  risked — is  it  not  a  woman's  triumph  all  over,  and 
her  satisfaction  in  it  supremely  feminine? 

A  woman — and,  to  my  thinking,  a  great  woman, 
too;  full  of  what  we  call  faults,  full  of  what  we  hail  as 
virtues — and  quite  with  a  mind  of  her  own  as  to  the 
value  of  these  qualities — a  mind  by  no  means  always 
moving  on  orthodox  lines.  Stubborn,  self-willed,  tor- 
tuous, jealous  of  domination,  tenacious  of  liberty  (at 
what  cost  and  risk  she  had  clung  to  that  till  the  last 
moment!),  not  patient  of  opposition,  suspicious  of 
any  claim  to  influence  or  to  guide  her;  generous  to 
magnificence,  warm  in  affection,  broad  in  mind,  very 
farseeing,  full  of  public  spirit,  never  daunted,  loyal  to 
death,  and  beyond  the  grave — that  is  Jenny — and 
yet  not  all  Jenny,  for  it  leaves  out  the  gracious  puz- 
zling woman  in  whom  all  these  things  are  embodied; 
the  woman  with  her  bursts  of  temper,  her  fits  of  petu- 
lance, her  joyous  playfulness,  her  sudden  looks  and 
gestures  of  love  or  friendship;  her  smiles  gay  or  mys- 
terious, her  eyes  so  full  of  fun  or  so  full  of  thought, 
flashing  while  she  scolds,  mocking  while  she  cheats, 
caressing  when  she  cajoles,  so  straight  and  honest 
when  suddenly,  after  all  this,  she  lays  her  hand  on 
your  arm  and  says  "Dear  friend!"  Such  is  "The 
Empress " — the  great  Miss  Driver  of  Breysgate 
Priory.  Such  is  my  dear  friend  Jenny,  whom  I  serve 
in  freedom  and  love  in  comradeship.  I  would  that  she 
were  what  they  call  her!  None  fitter  for  the  place 
since  Great  Elizabeth — whom,  by  the  way,  she  seems 


A    MAN    OF    BUSINESS  419 

to  me  to  resemble  in  more  than  one  point  of  charac- 
ter and  temperament. 

So  we  live  side  by  side,  and  work  and  play  to- 
gether— with  love — but  with  no  love-making.  There 
are  obvious  reasons  on  my  side  for  that  last  proviso. 
I  am  her  servant;  the  fourth  part  of  twenty-seven 
pounds  per  annum  represents,  as  I  have  hinted,  the 
most  I  have  earned  save  the  salary  she  pays  me.  I 
should  make  a  very  poor  Prince  Consort — and  Jenny 
would  never  trust  me  again  as  long  as  she  lived — 
though  it  is  equally  certain  that  she  would  never  tell 
me  so.  And  there's  another  reason,  accounting  not 
for  my  not  having  done  it,  but  for  the  odder  fact — 
my  not  having  wanted  to  do  it.  Humble  man  that  I 
am,  yet  I  was  born  free  and  am  entitled  not  only  to 
the  pursuit  of  happiness,  but  to  the  retention  of  my 
liberty;  the  latter  offers,  in  my  judgment,  the  most 
favorable  opportunity  for  the  former.  Jenny  likes 
liberty — so  do  I.  As  we  are,  we  can  both  enjoy  it. 
If  by  any  miraculous  freak  Jenny  had  made  me  her 
husband,  she  would  have  made  me  her  slave  also. 
Or  would  Jenny  have  been  the  slave?  I  fancy  not.  I 
know  her — and  myself — too  well  to  cherish  that  idea; 
which  is  indeed,  in  the  end,  little  more  attractive. 

For  her  decision  is  right  for  herself,  as  once  I  told 
her.  She  has  found  happiness — more  happiness  than 
would  have  come  to  her  if  she  had  never  fled  from 
Hatcham  Ford,  more  happiness,  I  dare  to  think 
(though  never  to  say!),  than  would  in  the  end  have 
been  hers,  had  Octon  never  faced  the  Frenchman's 
pistol  at  Tours.  She  is  not  made  for  an  equal  part- 
nership, no  more  than  for  a  submission  or  surrender. 


420  THE    GREAT    MISS    DRIVER 

How  hardly  she  accepted  a  partnership  at  all,  even 
with  the  man  whose  love  has  altered  all  her  life!  It  is 
her  nature  to  be  alone,  and  through  a  sore  ordeal  she 
came  to  that  discovery.  Once,  I  think,  and  in  just 
one  sentence  she  showed  me  her  true  heart,  what  her 
true  and  deepest  instinct  was — even  about  Leonard 
Octon. 

We  were  sitting  by  the  fire  one  evening  alone.  Talk 
dragged  and  she  looked  listless,  tired  after  a  busy 
day's  work,  thoughtful  and  brooding. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  my  thoughts  had  gone  back  to  the  early 
days  here.  I  was  thinking  how  pleasant  it  would  be 
if  we  had  Leonard  back  at  Hatcham  Ford,  dropping 
in  after  dinner." 

At  Hatcham  Ford,  mind  you!  Dropping  in  after 
dinner!  That  was  the  time  to  which  her  wandering 
thoughts  flew  back — that  the  point  on  which  their 
flight  instinctively  alighted.  Not  the  heart-trying, 
heart-testing,  perhaps  heart-breaking,  days  of  union 
and  partnership,  but  the  days  of  liberty  and  friend- 
ship. 

I  must  have  smiled  to  myself  over  her  answer,  for 
she  said  sadly,  yet  with  a  smile  herself,  "  I  can't  help 
it!  That  was  what  I  was  thinking,  Austin." 

So  think,  dear  mistress — and  not  on  the  harder 
days!  Defiance,  doubt,  despair,  are  over.  Abide  in 
peace. 


THE    END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE    PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


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